All Jacked Up (Rough Riders #8)(16)

Keely melted a little, seeing Jack engrossed in playtime with her nephew. She never imagined he’d be the type of guy who’d sit on the floor and play Legos.


Don’t fall for his softer side. It’s not real. It’s part of the scam.


Wasn’t it?


AJ tugged Keely into the kitchen. She whispered fiercely, “Okay. I’ll admit I see his appeal. Not only is he unbelievably good looking, he’s got an amazing body and he likes kids—”


“And don’t forget he’s loaded,” Keely added.


AJ whapped her on the arm. “That is not how you choose a man you’ll spend the rest of your life with. I imagine the sex is pretty rockin’ too?”


Keely’s gaze skittered away and she prayed AJ would drop it.


No such luck.


“Oh. My. God.”


She couldn’t look at AJ, fearing her best friend had guessed the truth about the Jack situation.


“What?”


“This is the real deal for you, isn’t it?”


“What makes you say that?”


“Because you’re not regaling me with tales of the size of his penis, or how he screwed you in the bathroom at Coors Field, or how you went down on him on a twisty mountain road, or the wicked tricks he can perform with his long tongue.”


“So?”


“So, keeping the intimate details to yourself means what happens between you two is too personal to share.”


Or there aren’t any down and dirty details to share.


AJ hugged her and sniffled in her ear. “I’m happy for you, K. Even if Jack isn’t the man I’d choose for you.”


Me neither. “Thanks.”


Keely silently breathed a sigh of relief. If she’d convinced AJ about the legitimacy of the engagement, she should be home free as far as the rest of her family buying it.


“What’s going on?” Jack rounded the corner with Foster, burning Keely with a pointed look.


“Girl talk. AJ has great ideas for the centerpieces for the engagement party. A bouquet of Wyoming wildflowers—”


Jack held up his hand. “You promised no party details, remember? I need the keys to your truck for my trip to Spearfish.”


Keely opened her mouth to belt out, Oh hell no, you ain’t touchin’ my truck when she noticed the challenge in his eyes. “Jack, darlin’, I can drive. In fact, I’d love to go with you since we’ve spent so little time together recently.”


“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.”