Page 39 of Wrangled Up

His sac clenched up tight to his body, his cock aching. His morning erection had never really gone down. Even through the smell of oatmeal, he’d held onto his need. Hell, for Claire he’d eat a big, healthy bite.

He climbed into the old pickup with the water tank in the back and started it. Cruising the ranch for signs of the spring wasn’t something he’d thought to do. Good thing he had a few friends to guide him on this endeavor. Otherwise, Tucker would return home to dead animals and a failing ranch.

Tucker.Where the hell was he? Days without word. Claire was concerned about the food for the horses running out. If he had to, Christian could charge some food and Tucker would pay him back. But what if the man just kept running?

While Claire hid her pain behind a happy façade, Christian knew she was one of those people who smiled through their pain. Most people didn’t recognize it. But he was aware. Too aware that her heart was broken and she was leaning on him as a way to cope with her suffering. If Tucker were to step back into the picture, Christian would be out on his ear.

Or would he? When she looked at him, sparks sizzled between them. Sex was explosive.

He drove past Boomerang’s shed and caught a glimpse of the beast against the fence, long neck stretched to nibble grass on the other side. Again, he cracked up laughing. “Morning, Boom Boom.”

Ten minutes and several passes of the ranch later, he finally spotted a small wooden structure down in a natural dip in the hillside. He bumped across the grass and stopped beside it. After jumping out, he crouched to see the thing that looked like a doghouse actually covered a spring bubbling from the ground.

And that smart friend of his had rigged a sort of pump that could be attached to the black hose leading to the water tank. Christian hooked it up swiftly and leaned against the side of the truck, gazing over the land as the tank filled.

Twenty minutes and about five hundred gallons of water later, Christian drove up in front of the house. Claire was out with Boomerang, wielding a big pink brush on the animal’s coat.

“Oh Lord.” He drew up beside her and cranked down the window manually. “Hey, pretty lady. Coming with me to water the stock?”

She flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. His stomach tightened. Something about being in the company of that animal made her let down her guard. While caring for the alpaca, she allowed herself to think about Tucker, to feel and ache for his loss.

“Hey,” Christian rumbled, “get in.”

She carefully speared the pink wire brush on a nail inside the shed and got into the truck without meeting his gaze. All the time they took care of the horses in the pastures, she didn’t speak. So by the time they started leading the horses out of the barn one by one and tethering them near the outside hose, he didn’t hold out much hope for that romp against the wall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her lovingly brush out the snarls in a white mare’s mane and tail. He filled a big tub with water and soap then used a big brush to clean the horse in front of him.

A swift movement made him jerk his head around, just in time to see Claire slip onto the mare’s bare back. Her grip on the mane lessened, but the horse danced sideways at the unexpected weight.

“Claire.” The word came out hot and urgent. If she fell from that height or the horse threw her…

He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat. She dropped her chest, plastering her body to the animal. Her lips moved but he couldn’t make out what she was saying to the beast.

The mare stamped a front foot, and Christian tensed, prepared to leap forward and snag Claire out of midair if the horse tossed her.

“Jesus, don’t make any sudden moves.”

Claire turned her head and gave him a smile. A genuine smile. One that sent her eyes dancing—two merry little coals burning with life. His heart thumped heavily as he stared at her. The untamed, wild beauty she possessed matched that of the horse she seated. But to say he was petrified for her safety was like saying he had a little hard-on for Tucker.

He inched forward.

Suddenly, Claire applied pressure with her heels, sending the horse into a graceful trot. Unable to watch her move away from him on the four-legged hell train, Christian jogged alongside her.

Claire giggled, a joyous sound that sent a pang of want straight to his cock. He didn’t tear his gaze off her but continued to run beside her. “Don’t look so worried, Chris.”

Her use of his nickname gave him a new warm, fuzzy feeling, somewhat higher up in his anatomy.

“Letty taught me to ride when I was hardly able to walk without falling on my nose. She was a great rider, you know. Letty. A few years ago, she broke her ankle on some ice though. Two big pins in her spindly bones keep her from riding anymore.”

“Damn good thing.” He raked his gaze over another woman with fine bones—one he’d hate to see laid up with a cast. Then again, maybe it would be sexy to hook the plaster over his shoulder and pound into her tight, wet heat.

He scuffed a hand over his face. What was wrong with him?

“I’m going to take her for a gallop.”

“Like hell,” he ground out.

Claire’s eyes widened, and she brought the mare to a walk. “You can’t be…you’re afraid something will happen to me?”

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