All Jacked Up (Rough Riders 8)

“Whatever you say, GQ.” She bussed his cheek. “You look nice and smell even better. What’re you guys doin’?”

“Eating first, then hashing through details for a couple projects I’ve lined up for him.”

Keely looked at him quizzically. “You Carter’s pimp?”

“In a manner of speaking. He’s greatly underappreciated in the western art world.” He adjusted his sleeves. “No big deal. I do what I can to get his name out there. Pass along commercial contacts.”

“I never knew you were so invested in Carter’s career.”

“And you can’t tell anyone, either,” he warned. “He’d be pissed as hell if he thought I’d blabbed to you.”

“But we’re in luurrve. You’re supposed to tell me everything.” Keely left a smacking kiss on his mouth. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I’ll see you later.”

“Where are you going?”

“My dart league starts at eight.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “You play in a dart league? Why didn’t I know that?”

“I figured you’d think it hopelessly lowbrow so I didn’t mention it.” She hopped from foot to foot as she took off her boots. Then she sailed into the bedroom.

He followed her and leaned against the jam as he watched her undress. “How long have you been playing darts?”

Keely whipped off her shirt. “In a league? Six months. But Colt taught me to play when I was a kid. I was a lousy shot with a bow and arrow. He thought darts might teach me hand-eye coordination, but I just ended up liking darts more than shooting bow.” She flipped through the hangers in the closet.

“What other hobbies do you have that I don’t know about?”

“Darts ain’t exactly a hobby. It’s an excuse to hang out with my friends and drink beer. They’ve been trying to get me to join a volleyball league but it doesn’t interest me. I’m in a book club, but half the time I don’t read the damn ‘literary’ books they pick because they’re total downers.”

“What would you rather read?”

“Erotic romances.” Keely winked. “As far as other activities? I’m on the volunteer list for the community center and fill in when someone’s sick or on vacation. Oh, and I like to dance.”

Jack wondered if her excessive social calendar was because she didn’t like being alone. “You don’t ever stay home and relax? Kick off your boots and stay a while?”

“Sure. But my idea of relaxing and yours are way different.”

Why did he bristle? “Meaning what?”

“I relax when I’m asleep. Reclining in front of the TV as a way to relax? No thanks. I’d rather do things with real live people instead of pretending what happens on a sitcom or dramedy or reality show matters. Connections matter to me. And there’s nothing more relaxing than laughing with family and friends.” Keely buttoned the last button of the India’s Ink dart league shirt.

For Christsake. This woman played in a dart league sponsored by a tattoo shop. She had tattoos. She drove a dirty pickup. She had fifty different colored pairs of shitkickers. She had a social life to rival Paris Hilton’s. Did he have a single thing in common with her besides phenomenal sex?

Yes. You need each other to get your careers on track.

Sometimes Jack forgot the big picture. Sometimes he forgot their relationship wasn’t real. What really pissed him off was sometimes he even forgot Keely wasn’t his type.

“Speaking of families. Last night Channing dropped the bomb she’s having a girl! No one tells me anything important these days.”

“Well, it’s important you don’t make plans for tomorrow night because we need to talk about the Milford trip.”

“But Thursday night is my night to—”

Jack held up his hand stopping her protest. “I don’t care if it’s your night to shoe horses or to craft quilts or to can pickled beets. I need you here.”

“Fine.” Keely brushed past him. In the doorway to the bathroom she turned. “Have fun with Carter.

But don’t wait up for me.”

Don’t wait up for me.

Jack ground his teeth together. Three hours had passed and her parting shot still rankled.

“Jack? Buddy? You’re gonna have an embolism if you keep scowling like that. So tell me what’s up.”

“Your sister drives me f**king crazy.”

“And that’s news?” Carter laughed. “The fact you two haven’t killed each other by now is newsworthy. Never in a million years would I have predicted you two as a couple.”

“Join the club.”

“So tell me…what did my little sis do to piss you off? Earlier at the jobsite you guys were goin’ at it hot and heavy. I thought my dad was gonna get the hose out and spray you down.”

Jack scraped his hands over the razor stubble on his jaw. “I don’t understand why she has to be doing something all the time. Why can’t she just stay home? It’s like she can’t stand to be by herself.”

Carter didn’t say anything.

At first, Jack wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds. Then he worried Keely had kept something important from him. “What?”

“Keely didn’t tell you how she’s spent the last five years?”

Jack squirmed. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should know all about his fiancée’s past. If he showed his ignorance, Carter would get suspicious.

“Jack?”

He shook his head.

“It figures she didn’t fill you in.” Carter signaled the waitress for another round.

When Carter didn’t start talking, Jack got both worried and pissed off. “You can’t drop something like that into conversation and leave it there to fester, McKay.”

“It’s not festering, Donohue. I’m debating.”

“On what?”

That blue gaze identical to Keely’s pinned Jack in place. “On if I should keep my big mouth reputation in the family and just flat out tell you, or if I oughta let it fester so you’re forced to ask Keely about it. Part of me thinks if she would’ve wanted you to know, she would’ve told you herself. But part of me thinks it’s your right to know.”

When the waitress swung buy with more beer, Jack ordered two shots of Wild Turkey.

Carter leaned back in the booth. His posture wasn’t lazy, but challenging. “If you think getting me drunk will make me spill my guts, you’re barking up the wrong tree, pal.”