Page 95 of His Eighth Ride

Something had to give in her life, and Bobbie Jo had decided that maybe if she didn’t live on the farm with Tucker, they could start a relationship. She still wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to start dating again, but if she was, she wanted it to be with Tucker Hammond.

“Yeah.” Hattie moved in and hugged her. “It’s Tucker.” She gave her a soft smile as she pulled away, and then she followed Tara to the back door, laced her fingers through his, and together, they slipped outside.

Bobbie Jo drew a deep breath and turned in a full circle. “A date with Tucker,” she murmured to herself. He hadn’t specifically said it was a date, but he’d named a time well after work, when he’d have finished and showered, and he was taking her to a steakhouse on the outskirts of the city.

They could go anywhere in a fifteen-minute radius and get burgers, tacos, French fries, or pizza. But he wanted to drive forty minutes, eat with her, and drive her back. Her lips buzzed at the very possibility of kissing him that night, and Bobbie Jo started lecturing herself as she opened the coat closet to get out the star-studded boots.

“You will not kiss him tonight,” she said sternly. “The last time you thought you’d do that and be all friendly caused this huge rift.” Really, it was her inability to talk to Tuck, to get past her humiliation and fears, to start another relationship when so much was still bleeding and raw from Oklahoma.

Several knocks sounded on the door as she sat on the couch, and Bobbie Jo’s pulse went into a complete tizzy. “Come in,” she called anyway, and then she bent to get the boots on.

“Hey,” Tucker said from behind her, and Bobbie Jo glanced at him without making eye contact.

“Hey, I’m just putting my boots on. Two seconds.” She zipped up the sides of the ankle boots on the left, then the right, and she got to her feet. “Ready.”

He hadn’t come down and around the couch, and she met his eyes with the piece of furniture between them. He was seriously what Hattie had called him months ago—the hottest cowboy alive—and Bobbie Jo’s mouth turned to sand.

“Aren’t you a pretty picture?” He grinned at her, flirting so easy for him. He wore a black and silver plaid shirt with short sleeves, blue jeans, and the darkest black cowboy hat a man could find.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s new.” She moved away from the couch and cocked her hip, planting one palm there. “It’s a dress.”

“I see that.” Tuck moved toward her, and for a moment, it felt like it might be the easiest thing in the world for him to gather her into his arms and hold her tight. A hello hug.

Bobbie Jo ached for that, as she didn’t get many hugs. Zero around here, in fact. He stuttered his step, something anxious in his gaze. Then he plowed forward and put his arms around her. “It’s so good to see you,” he murmured.

Bobbie Jo sighed and allowed herself to relax into the circle of his safe embrace. “You too.”

“I mean, I see you around,” he said. “But it’s not the same.”

It wasn’t, but Bobbie Jo didn’t need to verbally agree with him. “You’ve got a reservation?” she asked.

“Yes.” But Tucker didn’t move immediately. He held her for several more moments, and Bobbie Jo closed her eyes and simply melted away into the scent of his skin, his cologne, his fabric softener. “We better go.”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and stepped back as he did, and they separated far easier than they’d come together. “Let me just grab my phone and wallet.” They waited for her on the counter, so she took two steps and had them.

He took her hand and led her out the front door much the same way Tarr had led Hattie out the back. Bobbie Jo pulled the cabin door closed behind her and tucked her hair against the breeze trying to undo the curls she’d put in after her own post-work shower.

“Who’d you interview with today?” Tuck asked as he opened the passenger door of his truck for her.

“You’ll never believe it,” she said. “But HMC. Development and Research Department.” She pushed herself up and onto the seat and grinned at him. “I think it went well too.”

“That’s fantastic, Bobbie Jo.” He closed her door, his handsome smile etched in place, and rounded the truck to the driver’s seat.

“It’s at least a three-interview process,” she said. “And this was my first one, so I’ve got a ways to go.”

“No one will be better qualified than you,” he said. He did seem more reserved tonight than she’d seen him in the past, and that caused her voice to dry right up.

Tuck drove them out of the cabin community and around the homestead to the main road. Then right off the farm and toward the city. The radio warbled on low, country music filling the silence between them.

The drive started out comfortable, but by the time Bobbie Jo realized Tuck had cleared his throat three or four times, the mood shifted. She glanced over to him. “You can just tell me.”

He looked at her too, the highway they drove not busy right now. “I was hoping you’d have some of those fried mac and cheese balls you like before I do.”

“Okay,” she said. “But I can see you’re quietly freaking out.”

He grinned. “You can see that, huh?”

“You’ve cleared your throat a million times.”

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