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 ass**le.”
“Aw. She promised to bring you a lollipop if you didn’t cry this time.”
“A f**king ass**le.”
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—