“Why?”
“Because Liesl is right; you do seem sad since you got back from Denver. And you also seem to be filling all your free time with McKay family activities. While we’re grateful, we love you and we all love spending time with you, you deserve happiness of your own, Keely, in your own life. Whether it’s here or in Denver, whether it’s with Jack or someone else.”
Keely looked out the door at the kids playing in the backyard. “I know. I just…” Love him and he doesn’t know it. And none of this was ever real. And even if it was, I don’t think I could choose living with him over living around family, “…wish Jack and I wanted the same things.”
“Maybe it’ll work out.”
Fat chance. “Maybe. Thanks.” Keely hopped off the stool. “Have fun hosing off your kids. Liesl and Anton are having a mud fight. Ooh, and look! Now the twins are slinging slop.”
“Oh good Lord. What makes me think I can handle two more?”
“You love it and you guys wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The only thing running through Jack’s mind as the outskirts of Sundance shimmered in the distance was, Thank God.
Aside from his father’s death, the past twenty-three days had been the shittiest of his entire life. The projects had gone all right, although none of them would make him rich. Hell, he’d probably lose money when he added in his travel costs.
Which would fit in with the way his life was going. He’d about lost his fucking mind when forced to say goodbye to Keely in Denver. She’d turned him inside out with her teary, don’t call me request. Pissed him off too. He’d managed to let her go, but only temporarily. It wasn’t over between them. Not by a long shot.
When Jack returned to the hotel room, he noticed the small box of Legos Keely had hidden in his suitcase. With a note,
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Remember to make time for fun. Love, your cowgirl.
He’d stared at the unopened package, blinking back tears. Keely knew him down to the bone, so how could she be so damn oblivious to the fact he’d fallen in love with her?
So during the last three weeks, to take his mind off all the things he missed about Keely, her fiery addictive kisses, her violation of his personal sleeping space, her uninhibited sexual response, her inventive 194
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All Jacked Up
curses, her absolute devotion to her family, her stupid country music, her gas-guzzling dirty-ass truck, her gentle insistence with her clients…he’d worked. But she was never far from his thoughts.
So Jack had broken down and called her. Just wanting to hear her voice. But it hadn’t been enough.
He’d booked the last flight out of Des Moines. When he’d landed at the Denver airport after midnight, he climbed in his car and had driven straight through.
To her.
The hell if they wouldn’t have it out. They seemed to be at their best when they were fighting anyway.
Jack just had to convince Keely they were worth fighting for.
Sundance resembled a ghost town at four in the morning. He dragged ass across the alley and fumbled with his keys, only to discover the outside door to the building hadn’t been locked.
After he climbed the dark stairwell and reached the landing, he tried the door handle to the apartment.
It turned easily. Dammit. Keely hadn’t bothered to lock the door. Made him crazy she wasn’t vigilant about security measures. Any creepy fucker could’ve waltzed inside and attacked her.
In Sundance? You’ve been living in the big city too long.
Jack inched the door open. No squeaking hinges. The apartment was black as pitch. He started toward the bedroom. But the hair on the back of his neck prickled, right before he caught movement in his peripheral vision. He dropped to the ground as air whooshed above him.
Keely shrieked, “Stay down motherfucker. I’ve got a gun and I will blow your head off!”
“Keely? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Silence. Then an incredulous, “Jack?”
“Yes, it’s Jack. Jesus Christ! You scared the living hell out of me.”
“What are you doin’ sneakin’ into my apartment at four o’clock in the goddamn morning? You could’ve called.”
“You told me not to call you, remember?” He pushed to his feet and squinted at the death grip she had on the item in her hand. “For fuck’s sake. You swung a cast iron frying pan at my head? You could’ve killed me!”
“That was the point, asshole.”
He growled. “Where’s the goddamn gun?”
“On the kitchen table.”
“Is it loaded?”
“Ah. No. I forgot I was out of shells.”