All Jacked Up (Rough Riders 8)

“See how sweet she is?” Jack said to AJ with a totally fake smile. “But I realize you have tons of stuff to do around the apartment today—cooking, cleaning, pressing my work shirts, organizing my side of the dresser before we pore over the plans with West Construction this afternoon.”

“That is true.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Swapping cars today will work out great.”

Alarm danced through Jack’s eyes.

She bit her cheek to stop the laughter. Jack babied his 760li Series BMW. The notion of handing her the keys would give him a nervous breakdown.

Which would serve him right.

Chapter Five

“I see some things haven’t changed between you two,” AJ said. “There’s a fight brewing and I don’t wanna be around for the making up part.” She took Foster’s hand. “Come on, son. Aunt Domini has a bowl of Cheerios with your name on it downstairs at Dewey’s.”

Foster didn’t hug Keely goodbye. The only thing that interested the kid more than Legos was food.

The door slammed.

“Did you tell her the truth?” Jack demanded.

“No. She thinks because I haven’t been regaling her with tales of our kinky sexual exploits that this must be wuv, twue wuv. ”

“Quoting The Princess Bride will not steer my focus from the fact you are not driving my car today or any other day, buttercup.”

“Why not? We’re engaged. It is my right to drive it, especially if you’re taking off in my truck.”

“Where do you need to go today?”

Nowhere, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “I have a life, Jack. I have a job. I need a car.

And no, I’m not asking anyone to ferry me around town when there’s a perfectly good car sitting in the parking lot. Besides, people would gossip that my fiancé doesn’t trust me to touch his precious Beemer.”

Jack loomed over her. “I don’t trust you. Do you have any idea how much I paid for that car?”

“Way, way too much?” she asked sweetly.

He growled.

“Who cares? It’s just a car.”

“Just a car? It’s a feat of German engineering—”

“Some feat! It doesn’t have a trunk big enough to hold more than a French press coffeepot made in China and a bag of Guatemalan coffee beans.” When he snarled, she jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “Here’s the deal. The only way I’ll let you borrow my truck to pick up that all important big-screen TV is if you let me drive your car.”

Jack paced to the living room. Muttered to himself and stalked back to her. “Fine. But if anything happens, and I mean a single rock chip or an itty bitty scratch, I will take it out of your hide, understand?”

“Completely. I’ll treat it like it’s my own.”

And that’s probably why Keely got a speeding ticket not two hours later.

But it’d been so damn tempting. A V-12 with 360 horses under the hood? And a long stretch of empty black road in front of her? Sheer heaven.

She’d neglected to mention her love of fast cars to her intended. Trading in her old Corvette, after the years she’d spent zipping through traffic in Denver and opening the throttle on the deserted highways of the west, had broken her heart. But when Keely moved back home for good, she knew Wyoming weather could change in a heartbeat. Making the long, lonely drive between Sundance and Cheyenne in the winter months was dangerous and necessitated a four-wheel drive truck.

So if Keely stumbled on the chance to rod the piss out of a car meant to be driven hard and fast and loose, she did so without an ounce of guilt.

Just her bad luck she’d blazed past a Crook County Sheriff’s car as she’d hit the one hundred thirty miles per hour mark. When the flashing lights finally caught up with her, she hoped Sheriff Shortbull was behind the wheel. He’d let her off with a warning. He always did. She manufactured a charming but contrite smile.

Keely watched in the rearview mirror as the driver’s side door of the cop car opened. Her smile dried up. Her stomach dipped. The unmistakable hulking form of her brother Cam started toward her.

Shit.

She reluctantly rolled down her window. “I can explain—”

“License and registration.”

“Cam. Seriously. Just listen for a sec.”

He stuck his head inside the car. “Not. Another. Word. License and registration.”

Keely popped the glove box and found the vehicle registration right where it was supposed to be. She passed it and her license through the window, waiting while Cam did his cop thing. “Exit the vehicle and come with me.”

Keely trudged to the passenger side of the cop car and climbed in.

“Did Jack really let you drive his car? Or did you steal it when he wasn’t looking?”

“He let me have it. We traded. He needed my truck.”

“Does he know you drive like an idiot?”

She glared at him.

“And what is this bullshit about you and Jack Donohue getting married anyhow?”

Big brother number four didn’t beat around the bush. She allowed him time to recant his jerky statement. When he didn’t, she offered him a haughty, “It’s not bullshit.”

Cam ripped his sunglasses off. His eyes snapped fire. “Yes, it is. I know you. I’ve seen the venom in your eyes when you look at him, so don’t give me that ‘I’m madly in love with him’ crap. Come clean. Right now.”

The truth was, Cam did know her to the bone and she had one chance to deflect the conversation.

“Okay, smarty, if you know me so well, then what have I been working on for the last four months?”

He squinted at her with his I can toss your smart ass in jail stare.

Keely didn’t back down. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“Well, sweetheart, whatever you’ve secretly been working on, you’ve done a damn good job of hiding it, not only from me, but from the family. And I would know all about hiding stuff, wouldn’t I? So who better than me to ferret out the truth?”

“But—”

“Uh-uh. I ain’t done. What I do know, little sis, is Jack Donohue did something to you at Colt and India’s wedding reception that made you cry. I’ve never pushed the issue, even when I wanted to castrate the son of a bitch for hurting you. And if I thought he’d physically injured you? I would’ve killed him on the spot. Period.”

Yikes.

“So tell me the truth.”