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“ M onkeyballs,” she muttered to herself as she took in the state of her boots.

Jameson was right, the sole had come away

She loved these boots. They were an absolute bargain that she’d found at a thrift store and she wore them all the time.

Even in the heat and sand.

Right. She could fix this. All she needed some superglue.

She stood and barely bit back a pained groan as her hip protested. This wasn’t good. At the rate she was going, she wouldn’t be able to walk soon.

Uncle Willy had been back here for two days now. And it felt like she’d spent most of that time running around, taking care of him.

The first night, she’d slept on his bedroom floor so she’d hear him if he woke up. The next day, both Ian and Jack had been furious with her. She didn’t know how they’d figured it out.

However, she’d been told to sleep in her own bed and they’d hired the night nurse Jameson had suggested.

It had been a relief. Even if she’d stayed up most of the night worrying still.

Truthfully, if she’d slept on that hard floor again, she likely wouldn’t have been able to move the following morning.

You can barely move now.

It wasn’t that Uncle Willy was demanding or anything. She just wanted to take good care of him. That was the main reason she was spending so much time in his room.

That . . . and she was kind of avoiding Jack and Ian after all the kissing.

Lord, she missed the kissing.

She attempted to stretch, but a sharp pain shot through her hip and down her leg.

Not good.

It didn’t help that she hadn’t done any yoga in days or that she hadn’t been sleeping well. She also should have stopped and rested when it started hurting while she was with Jack the other day.

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda,” she muttered to herself.

She could do this. All she had to do was keep going.

Easy-peasy. Right?

After checking in to ensure that Uncle Willy still slept, she headed down the stairs. She kept hold of the rail to help herself balance.

Unease filled her. What if Uncle Willy wasn’t up to taking the wedding photos? They were supposed to be taking some pre-wedding pictures in three days.

He’d be all right. He had to be.

She made her way into the kitchen, moving carefully. Where would the super glue be?

“Looking for something?” Jack asked as he walked in.

She let out a cry, putting her hand on her chest. “You scared me.”

He leaned against the counter. “I scared you? Were you sneaking around? What were you looking for? Or is it that you’re trying to avoid me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grasped hold of her, turning her so her back was pressed to the counter. Then he leaned into her.

Whoa. Seemed intense Jack was back.

His hand moved to the back of her neck, squeezing. “You’re avoiding me. Why? Because we kissed?”

“Is that why you’re avoiding me too?” Ian asked, walking in. “Because of our kiss.”

Dear Lord.

Please let them stop talking about kissing or she was going to implode. Or tackle one of them to the ground and kiss the hell out of them.

“I’m not avoiding you guys,” she lied.

“Good. Because you’re sitting down and having dinner with us tonight. And every meal from now on,” Ian told her.

Um. No. That didn’t sound like a good idea.

“But Uncle Willy needs?—”

“I’ll take over cooking for all of us,” Jack said, cupping her face between his hands. “You are going to start doing less, baby girl.”

Darn. She loved his touch, but not so much what he was saying.

“Less? I can’t do less.”

“You look terrible,” Ian told her. “Fuck, I knew we should have locked her in her room when we got back here.”

“What?” she squealed. She stared up at Jack, expecting him to be more reasonable.

“Tying her to one of our beds would have been simpler,” Jack said.

“True.” Ian nodded.

“The two of you are bonkers. No one is locking me in a room or tying me to their bed or taking over care of my uncle. That’s my job.”

“And our job is to take care of you.” Ian came closer to them. Jack grabbed her, spinning her so she now faced Ian. Then Jack moved closer behind her, pinning her between them.

Holy assbaboons. How was she meant to think? To breathe?

Her legs started to go weak, but they held her steady. Jack’s hands were on her hips as Ian grabbed her chin, tilting her head back.

“Your job is to protect my uncle,” she countered.

“I wasn’t talking about the job we get paid for,” Ian told her.

Dear. Lord.

They were killing her.

“You don’t look well, Little girl,” Ian told her. “You’re going to get sick if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I feel perfectly fine. I don’t need any help. Look, I just came down here for some superglue. Not for a lecture or to be told how terrible I look.”

Definitely not for them to make her weak in the knees and want to beg them to touch her, kiss her.

“What do you need superglue for?” Jack asked.

“My boot is broken.”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “What?”

She nodded over at the table. “Do you have some?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some.” Ian backed away and relief filled her.

Uh-huh. That was definitely relief.

No, she was not lying to herself.

When she went to move away from Jack, though, he grabbed hold of her hips and pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Behave, baby.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean that you’re not to keep things from us or lie to us. Just keep that in mind.” He moved away, and it took her a moment to get her body and brain in sync.

Damn it. They had fried her brain. It was mush inside her head. As she sat at the table, Ian handed her some glue before sitting next to her. Jack brought over a cup of tea for her. And a small plate with biscuits on it.

“Oh, there’s a reason you’re my favorite.”

“Hey!” Ian protested.

Oops. Had she hurt the big guy’s feelings?

“When you bring me chocolate chip biscuits and tea, you can be my favorite,” she said as she took a giant bite of one.

Jack sat on her other side. Shitballs.

Didn’t they have anything better to do? Something that meant they weren’t sitting here distracting her?

Grabbing her boot, she turned it over and started gluing the piece back on.

“These boots look a bit past it, Little Misfit,” Ian told her.

“They’re fine. They were a bargain. I found them in a thrift store. Can you believe it? They’re only one size too big for me.”

She was aware that the both of them had fallen silent. She gave them a curious stare.

“Oh, lizardbutts,” she muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked.

“I forgot to get some paper to put it on to dry. Don’t want to get glue on the table.”

“I’ll get it,” Jack told her, lightly squeezing the back of her neck as he stood.

Lord. She needed him to stop doing that. It was like it was a trigger point.

Touch here and make her clit sit up and sing!

“Thanks,” she muttered as she took the piece of paper he offered and shoved it under the boot.

Why were they still here? And so close?

Urgh. Killing her.

She stood up, needing to get away, but as she took a step, her leg collapsed under her as a bolt of agony raced through her. She let out a scream of pain.

The floor rushed up to meet her. She would have hurt herself if Ian hadn’t moved so quickly, grabbing her before impact.

A sob escaped her before she could subdue it.

She breathed in shallowly, trying to manage the pain.

“What the fuck?!” Ian yelled. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Where does it hurt, baby?” Jack asked as Ian drew her up into his arms.

“My . . . it’s my . . . hip.”

“Your hip?” Ian repeated. “What did you do to it?”

“Old injury. Car accident,” she said through gritted teeth.

Ian laid her down on the sofa in the living room. She attempted to sit up, but Jack was there, pressing her down.

“The car accident from five years ago?” Jack asked.

“That was in my background check?”

“Yeah. There wasn’t anything in-depth though,” he replied as Ian started talking on the phone. “Nothing about the injuries you sustained.”

Who was Ian calling?

“It was only because there was a police report that it was in there,” Jack added. “But I did my own research into you. I know the accident ended your career.”

“Yeah. Turns out it’s hard to ice-skate with a shattered hip.”

Jack winced. “But it’s been five years. I haven’t noticed you limping. Shit, you were bouncing around for close to an hour the other day on the bouncy pillows and slides.” His gaze narrowed. “Were you sore then?”

“I, um . . . well . . . that might be part of the problem.”

He stiffened, his face growing dark. “You should have told me.”

“Mostly, my hip doesn’t give me a lot of problems. Doing yoga helps. So does light exercise, heat, getting lots of rest.”

“Which you haven’t been able to do with your uncle in the hospital,” Jack said grimly.

Ian stormed over to them.

“It’s from an old injury,” Jack told him. “Car accident five years ago, she shattered her hip.”

“Fuck,” Ian said. “And you still have problems?”

“Just sometimes,” she admitted.

“It’s been building up to this for a while,” Jack said, throwing her right into the fire. “And she didn’t tell us.”

Ian turned his gaze back to her. “What?”

“You had to tell him?” she asked Jack.

“We don’t keep things from each other.”

“How bad is the pain?” Ian asked, crouching beside her. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“Only a four.”

“Stop lying,” Jack said sternly.

She stared up at him in shock.

“Jack, dude, maybe you better go check on William,” Ian said calmly.

“We were on the bouncy pillows for close to an hour. It was hurting her and she didn’t tell me,” Jack said, pacing back and forth.

Ian narrowed his gaze at her. “Which was very naughty and she deserves some punishment. But right now, we need to get her seen to. Jameson is on his way.”

“Right . . .” Jack let out a deep breath. “You’re right.”

“Go check on William for a moment. Please.”

Whoa. Did Ian just say please?

“You’ll watch over her?” Jack asked.

“You know I will, mate.”

When he’d left the room, she turned to Ian. “Um . . . what was that?”

“Jack’s mum died of cancer,” Ian replied.

Maggie winced. “She did?”

“She ignored the pain she was in. Just pushed the pain aside and just kept going. He was away at school and had no idea. Until one day she collapsed. The cancer was eating her from the inside out. Stage four. If she’d just done something when she first started feeling ill and in pain, then there was a good chance she could have lived.”

“Oh no.” Tears filled her eyes.

“Yeah. Jack doesn’t let himself care about many people. Me, my brothers, and Jameson. That’s about it. Until you. Which means that he’s taking this hard. We’re going to ensure that you are taken care of. We haven’t done a very good job so far. Time to change that.”

“He doesn’t care about me. Not like he does you guys.”

“No, not the same as he does us. It’s very different.”

Right.

And she shouldn’t be upset by that. She’d known Jack for less than two weeks.

“He’s all good,” Jack said, coming back into the room. “Have you gotten the truth out of her about her pain levels?”

“It was an eight,” she confessed. “It’s now down to a six.”

“Does this happen often?” Ian asked. “This sort of pain?”

“No. Rarely. I just . . . haven’t been paying close enough attention I guess.”

“Taking care of yourself, you mean,” Ian countered. “That stops from now on.”

“It sure does. Where the fuck is Jameson?” Jack snapped.

“He should be here soon,” Ian said.

“You really didn’t need to call Jameson. I’m fine.”

Okay. Wrong thing to say, apparently. Both of them glared down at her.

She shrunk back slightly. She really didn’t like having them both upset at her.

“I’m doing the best I can. Please, don’t be mad at me. Please.”