“Really,” Stone told them both. “I’m good. Some Band-Aids, that’s all I need.” Why wasn’t anyone listening?
Emma eyed his shorts, specifically the areas where blood was leaking through. With a very bad feeling, he shook his head. “No. No way. They’re staying on.”
“I have to clean the wounds,” she repeated. “All of them.”
Oh, Christ. Dr. Barbie? Try Dr. Evil. She wasn’t backing down, and rather than suffer the indignity of letting her—or even worse, TJ—take down his shorts, he did it himself, and then lay there buck ass naked with his eyes closed. “I feel so cheap,” he muttered. “You didn’t even buy me dinner first.”
TJ snorted, but the doc ignored him. “I also want to x-ray your ribs and your head,” she murmured as she began the torture. “And anything else you haven’t yet revealed to me that might be cracked, fractured or broken besides your good sense.”
Wow. She was even meaner than he’d thought.
It got worse, way worse.
An hour later, she’d seen every single inch of him up close and personal, and he did mean up close and personal. She’d left no wound unprobed. He’d been stitched, x-rayed and bandaged, and feeling more than moderately violated, was finally shown the door with stern directions to ice, elevate and rest.
Dr. Evil had wanted to give him a tetanus shot, but since he hadn’t been injured on anything rusty, she’d made some crack about torturing him enough for the day, requesting he come back next week for the shot.
Yeah. He’d be back. When hell froze over.
Crawling into TJ’s truck, he leaned back in the passenger seat and sighed. “I miss Doc.”
“She fixed you up just fine.”
“Evil. She’s Dr. Evil.”
TJ smiled. “Maybe. But she’s the hottest Dr. Evil I’ve ever seen.” He pulled them out of the lot, driving through Wishful, a town holding three thousand year-round residents inside its heavily Victorian-influenced architecture.
The town had been around since the 1800s, where it’d once thrived as a vital part of the wild, wild west. The gold rush had come and gone, and then the lumber boom, but Wishful, located at over six thousand feet, had put itself on the map thanks to the ice it’d shipped out by the truckload to the rest of the country at the turn of the century.
Now it was an outdoor enthusiast’s tourist stop on the way to Lake Tahoe, and the Wilder brothers had taken full advantage of that, running their adventure expedition company on the outskirts of town, taking people on any kind of mountain outdoor adventure there was; skiing, snowmobiling, dirt biking, hiking…anything. Baby brother Cam had put up the money, having amassed a considerable fortune being a world renowned snow boarder for fourteen years. Stone had located the thirty acres for sale, then designed and built the lodge, along with a series of smaller cabins for staff and family. TJ had come up with the business plan and initial contacts, getting them paying clients and taking those clients on the longer treks. It worked. Now they spent their days giving people the adventures they’d only dreamed about.
Not a bad way to earn a living.
Unless, of course, one of the idiots—er, clients—deciding to take his own adventure without knowing what he was doing, ended up needing the volunteer Search and Rescue team’s help, of which Stone was a member. Stone had found the guy on a rope hanging off the cliff he’d slid down. He’d waited until Stone reached him to panic, sending Stone rocketing down a sheer rock fifty feet, landing him in the Urgent Care being taken care of by Dr. Evil.
“She said she was going to come check on you in a few days.” As he drove, TJ tossed a grin Stone’s way. “Maybe give you a shot of antibiotics. With a needle.”
“You are such an asshole.”
“Aw. She promised to bring you a lollipop if you didn’t cry this time.”
“A fucking asshole.”
TJ laughed and kept driving, passing town, heading toward the Wilder Lodge. The sharp, craggy mountains all around them were still brilliant green from snow melt. They’d had a hell of a wet winter and spring, and were enjoying the effects of late June. The creeks were full to overflowing, feeding the meadows. Wildflowers, swayed in the hot breeze. Stone loved each season, but at the moment, with his poor abused body on fire, he missed the cool snow of winter.
“You should have seen your face when she brandished that needle.” TJ turned at the Wilder Adventures turn-off. “I thought you were going to crawl off that table with your ass cheeks.”
That was the Wilders for you. Lots of love all the way around.
“Your bare ass cheeks.” TJ grinned. “Ah, man. Good times.”
“TJ?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
TJ nodded, trying to go solemn and not quite making it. “You’re right. That was rude.”
“Thank you.” Stone let out a long breath, trying to relax.
“So.” TJ tossed him a look.
“So?”
“What’s it like knowing she’s seen your junk, and not from your best angle?”
Stone craned his neck and gave him a death stare.
“Sorry. Not funny yet?”
Stone just sighed and closed his eyes.
Chapter 3
Two days later, the pain from Stone’s cracked rib, aching joints and open wounds had subsided just enough that he could move around.
Sort of.
He got out of bed and left his cabin, heading up the trail toward the big lodge that housed Wilder Adventures. Pine needles crunched beneath his boots. The early morning air was chilly, only about fifty degrees, but by noon it would probably hit closer to ninety-five.
Around him, birds screeched. Insects hummed. He was dive-bombed by an errant wasp. He swatted at it and kept going through the woods. The trail was well kept but beyond it, nothing but remote wilderness. Approximately 75,000 acres of subalpine and alpine forest, granite peaks, and glacially formed valleys and lakes, all government owned and available for exploring.
He knew every inch of it.
By the time he climbed the steps to the lodge and got to his second story office, he was already tired. Still, he began the uphill battle against the mess on his desk. Over the next few months, he would plan and lead many varied treks—but for now he was diving into the mountain of paperwork required for those treks. There were permits to secure, equipment to order, treks to map, billing…and he did it all while fantasizing about playing doctor with a certain Dr. Evil in fancy clothes, with a set of baby blue eyes and a mouth that was made for—
His door opened and Annie walked in. Though she was only ten years his senior, his aunt—and Wilder Adventure’s chef—could kick his ass on a bad day, and given her scowl, it would appear it was exactly that. “Don’t go away mad,” he murmured wearily. “Just go away.”
“No can do.” She was wearing an apron that read: I’D TELL YOU THE RECIPE, BUT THEN I’D HAVE TO KILL YOU, which pretty much summed up her usual attitude.
An attitude that today, happened to match his. “You didn’t knock,” he said.
“Because you wouldn’t have said come in.”
Good point.
Definitely not leaving, she picked up the scrawny cat sitting in his spare chair—Chuck, a stray who’d adopted them nearly a year ago—and sat herself, where she studied Stone like a hawk.
A mother hawk.
Chuck yawned wildly and settled on Annie’s legs. Only a few months ago, the cat had been so skittish no one could even feed him, but Katie, their bookkeeper and now keeper of his brother Cam’s heart, had tamed both the man and the cat in one fell swoop.
Annie absently stroked Chuck’s chin as she eyed Stone.
Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, he shifted, jarred his poor body, and paid for it with a stab of pain. “Don’t ask me if I feel as bad as I look.”
“Okay.” She petted the cat some more. “But do you?”
He let out a careful breath. Yes. “No.”
“Liar.”
Ign
oring her, he went on with his paperwork. Or tried. It wasn’t easy with every movement pulling on a wound or bruise. Ignoring that too, he pulled his keyboard closer. Once upon a time, he’d loved handling the paperwork for Wilder Adventures. But then they’d gotten busy and it’d become a real pain in his ass. He’d hired a bookkeeper, Riley, who’d then decided to become Mr. Mom, so he’d hired Katie, who’d fallen in love with his brother and was currently traipsing across the Andes on an extended pre-wedding honeymoon.
Leaving just him, TJ and Annie. Since neither TJ nor Annie ever touched the paperwork, he was on his own—and it was killing him.
He just needed a break, he thought. And an entire bottle of Advil.
Annie put her feet up on his desk, getting comfy, which meant he was going to be stuck with her for a while. Her long dark hair was back in a single braid. With her Wilder hoodie and dark jeans, she might have been sixteen rather than forty.
“Seriously,” she said. “You look like something Chuck dragged in.”
She acted as if she was either his boss or his mother, and though officially she was neither, unofficially she’d taken on both roles years ago, running the lodge and their hearts with equal ease.
She had help. Her husband Nick was one of TJ’s oldest friends. Nick worked as their mechanic and helicopter pilot, and was as indispensable to Wilder Adventures as the rest of them. “Okay,” he admitted. “I feel like shit. Happy?”
“Aw, baby. Here.” She pulled Advil out of her pocket and handed them over.
“Bless your black heart.”
She watched him swallow three tablets dry, then turn to organize some invoicing, swearing as he did. “I did warn you,” she murmured, “About letting Cam fall in love with the bookkeeper.”
“They’re meant to be,” Stone said, and meant it. Cam had never been so happy, not even when he’d been a world champion snowboarder. “They deserve each other.”
“You sound like a chick. You sure you didn’t have a concussion after that fall?”
Stone shook his head. “You know, I actually tell people you love me.”
“I do love you. Cam will be back from taking Katie through the Andes in a few weeks, so stop moping. We’re doing just fine.”
Fine was relative.
Their business had grown in huge proportions this past year, especially with all three of the brothers now leading various treks. But with Cam gone for the past month, wooing the woman he intended to bring into the Wilder fold permanently, it’d left a void.
And not just in the office.
He missed the sonofabitch. TJ was around, and indispensable, but he handled all the long treks, meaning he’d be gone soon enough as well.
Leaving Stone by himself.
“It’s not brain surgery,” Annie said.
He laughed softly—ouch—and looked at her. “You know, with you and Nick tossing out your divorce papers instead of filing them, I figured you’d be all warm and fuzzy.”
“I dressed up as warm and fuzzy once for Halloween.” Annie dropped Chuck to the floor and stood to pace.
Stone watched her a moment, realizing she wasn’t here just to drive him crazy. Something was wrong, and his gut tightened. “What?”
“He wants a baby.”
He blinked. “Nick?”
“No, the damn Easter Bunny. Yes, Nick. Jesus, Stone, keep up.”
“So what’s wrong with wanting a baby? You’re only forty.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked…scared. “I already raised the three of you. I don’t want to start over.”
She’d been little more than a kid herself when she’d taken them on, but she’d kept them fed and out of jail—above and beyond the call of duty as far as he was concerned—and she’d been good at it. No, raising another kid wasn’t what was bothering her. “That’s not why.”
“Okay.” She walked the length of the office, pivoted, and did it again. “I’m not ready to take our relationship to that level.”
“Come on.” He had to laugh at that. “You’ve been together twenty years. A baby would be fun.”
“Fun?” She whipped around to face him. “Fun? Let’s see you breastfeed it. That we could call fun.”
He shuddered. “I’m just saying.”
“Well I’m just saying! I can’t have a baby, I’m already getting fat just thinking about it.” She plopped herself back down and glared at him. “I started running.”
She hated exercise with the same passion she reserved for hating spiders. “Why would you do that?” he asked, alarmed not just for the guests they needed her to be nice to, but for him and his brothers. Running would only make her all that much more distant from warm and fuzzy. “Don’t do that. Don’t take up running.”
“I have to. This body isn’t what it used to be. Things aren’t holding the way they used to.” To show him, she cupped her breasts and jiggled them.
“Jesus!” He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Stop that.”
“And my ass.” She cupped that next. “It’s falling, Stone. Losing the fight against gravity.”
“Shoot me, please.”
“So I’m running.” She sagged back. “Dammit.”
“There’s got to be a better way. Surgery.”
“Hell no.” She pointed at him. “You, the wussiest of the Wilders, are not alone in your needle phobia.”
“TJ told you.”
“Oh, yeah. He told me. Dr. Evil? Really?”
Stone shook his head in disgust. “He has a big mouth.”
Annie laughed. “Yeah, he does. But we spent all last year worrying ourselves to death over Cam before the kid got his shit together, and apparently now we need a new obsession. We picked you.”
“When? When did you pick me?”
“When TJ and I talked to Cam on the phone last night.”
Stone shook his head. Last year he and TJ and Annie had nearly killed themselves trying to save a devastated Cam, who’d lost his life’s passion—racing—to an injury. They hadn’t been able to reach him, to help. But then Katie had come along and done it for them.
But Stone didn’t need anyone worrying about him. He was fine.
“You’re not yourself lately.”
“Am too.”
She slanted him a glance.
“Okay, I’m not.” He shoved his hands in his hair. “But I’m fine.”
“Fine as in you’re going to vanish for a year?”
“That was Cam.” He blew out a breath. “Not me. I wouldn’t vanish. I love it here, you know that.”
“But…?” she pressed. “’Cause I definitely hear a but at the end of that sentence.”
“But…” The truth was, the business had been TJ’s love child, funded by Cam’s professional athlete winnings, and run by Stone.
Which was fine. Great. Because how many people could say that they, literally, played for a living? Plus, it’d kept him and his brothers together, when once upon a time he’d wondered if they’d ever be okay.
But the guiding, the business end of things, none of it had been what Stone had seen himself doing with his life. Truth was, he was so damn far from his own dreams of renovating and restoring the glorious old historicals in the area that he couldn’t even picture it anymore. He shrugged. “But we’re busy. Really busy. And yeah, I know it’s fun stuff we’re busy with, but it’s a lot of work.”
“Oh, baby. You’re tired is all.”
“Yeah.” It’d been ten years since he’d bought his first falling-down-on-its-axis Victorian in town and flipped it. He’d managed only two houses since then, and he wanted to do more, but he didn’t have the time. He could buy something and hire out and get things moving, but he didn’t want that either.