Racked and Stacked

“It was just a blow job.”

Ike froze outside the doorway when he recognized Riss’s voice.

So much for her being on her best behavior.

“It was a stellar blow job, hot stuff, and you know it,” the unseen male responded hotly.

“It was ages ago.”

“I think about it all the time. And seein’ you here . . . I consider it a sign since I’ll be workin’ in Casper for a few months. I’d sure like to get together again. Take you out on a real date this time.”

Ike cringed. Oh, buddy, wrong thing to say.

“Not interested.”

“Come on. Just one date.”

“I told you before. I don’t date.”

“Ever?”

“Never ever ever ever.”

“Why not?”

Christ on a cracker. Why wouldn’t this guy just take a hike?

“Lemme spell it out. The ratio of men to women in this state is four to one. That’s way too many partners for me to pass up.”

“So you’re happy just whorin’ your way through Wyoming a blow job at a time?” the guy demanded.

“Yep.”

Then Riss emerged through the doorway, head held high.

Never a dull moment around her.

When Ike turned the corner, he was face-to-face with the recipient of Riss’s oral expertise.

The man—still smarting from Riss’s smackdown—glared at Ike. “What do you want?”

He pointed at the bathroom. “To use the can. You in line?”

“Nah. It’s open.” Recognition dawned on the guy’s face. “Hey. I know you. Ike, right? Cattle broker with Stocksellers?”

Instead of correcting him with former cattle broker or I got shitcanned, Ike said, “Yeah, that’s me. Remind me again where I should know you from?”

“Ryland Johnson. I work at the Blackwood sale barn.”

Although Ike had zero recollection of this guy, the salesman in him surfaced. He offered his hand and a smile. “Now I remember. What’re you doin’ out here?”

“Me’n my buddies signed up for a private hunt.”

“The Split Rock has great guides. You’re sure to get your money’s worth. Nice seein’ you again. Take care.” Ike sidestepped him.

But Ryland blocked the door. He jerked his chin toward the private banquet room. “Are you at the same wedding as Riss Thorpe?”

“Yep. Why?”

“What’s the deal with her? Is she dating anyone?”

She just told you she ain’t the dating kind, jackass. “Do you know her?”

“I’d like to get to know her better. This is the first time I’ve seen her since we . . . ah . . . hooked up a few months ago.”

“And you were lookin’ for a repeat?”

“Yeah.”

Ike shook his head. “Look elsewhere. Riss is the ‘one and done’ type.”

“More like blow and go,” Ryland grumbled. “Maybe if I—”

“Don’t even try to change her mind unless you want your balls kicked into your throat and a fat lip.”

The mouth breather immediately bristled up.

“Not a threat from me, buddy. I’m just warning you that’s what Riss will do to you if you keep bugging her.”

Ryland looked skeptical. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

When Ike returned to the wedding reception, he sidled up to Riss standing at the bar. “A funny thing happened on the way to the bathroom . . .”

“I’ve heard this joke before,” she deadpanned.

“Not a joke. I ran into a friend of yours.”

Riss faced him, her green eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What friend?”

“Guy named Johnson.” Ike took a plastic cup of beer from the man tending the keg and nodded his thanks. “He claims you’re familiar with—”

“His Johnson?” she inserted. “Unfortunately.” She snagged the shot glass off the bar top, downed it, and signaled to the bartender for another.

“Whoa there, partner. You promised Jade you’d be on your best behavior and you’re doin’ shots?”

“I promised her no tequila. This is rum.”

He raised a brow. “Like that is somehow better?”

“For me? Yes. So what’d he say to you?”

“He asked if you were dating anyone. He seemed a little put out that you wouldn’t . . .” He grinned. “Well . . . put out.”

“Christ. Suck a guy’s dick one time and suddenly he’s in love.”

Ike choked on his beer.

Laughing, Riss slapped him on the back. “You oughta be used to my lewd and crude mouth by now, Palmer.”

“Not when your goal is maximum shock value with minimum effort, Thorpe.”

She shrugged. “Some people consider my vulgar vocab my most charming attribute.”

“Really? Name one person.”

“Jade.”

“She’s from New York. Nothin’ shocks her, so she don’t count.”

“Whatever. I know you’re dying to hear the dirty details about me’n the big Johnson.”

“Why would I give a damn about how you handled that tool?”

“Because you, Ike Palmer, are as snoopy as a fifteen-year-old girl.” She poked him in the chest. “Don’t deny it.”