Page 49 of Wrangled Up

Claire blew him a kiss and walked across the fenced-in area with Boom Boom trailing slowly behind. Christian headed to the barn. Once he reached the double doors, he turned around to look at the woman who captivated him.

She tugged on the leash, and Boom Boom kicked up her heels, her rhinestone ankle cuffs flashing in the dying sun.

As he often did when alone, Christian held a mental conversation with the man who’d left them aching.

You think that money you wired to my account is going to make up for you being an asshole, you’re wrong. Besides, I’m not touching that money. I’ll do this myself—as you initially intended.

The imaginary Tucker didn’t respond, so Christian did the only thing he knew wouldtake his mind off his friend—he threw himself into his work.

* * * * *

The old Buick sputtered, and Claire stomped on the gas to keep it running. The car grumbled and threatened to stall as she approached the one red light in town. Main Street was filled with tourists at this time of day, buying hats too big for their heads that they’d never wear once they got home, and filling their cars with antiques and handmade crafts from the local vendors.

Another loud rumble alerted her that the engine was about to sputter again, so she put it in park and gassed it. Several people in the crosswalk shot her terrified looks.

She bit down on her lip, fighting a laugh. Poor pedestrians and poor old car. Claire really needed to try harder to find a new job. Trouble was, she was completely happy at the diner. She’d never seen herself as a college graduate. Never wanted to go away from Reedy.

But her wages and Letty’s pension weren’t conducive to buying new vehicles. Besides, she didn’t need much in life.

Except two men.

She released a long, low sigh. The sound mingled with the whir of air in the vents. How had she gotten so entangled with Christian? And what would happen when Tucker came home?

If he comes home.

No, he would. His ranch was probably worth a couple million dollars. No one could walk away from that indefinitely.

The traffic light changed, and she eased the Buick forward with a light touch on the gas. Too much and she’d stall for sure. As she progressed slowly through town, past the library where she had an overdue book and farther out to the local grocery, she mentally ran through the list of supplies she needed to put up the harvest.

Jars, large mouth and small, quart and pint-sized. Lids. Seals.Yesterday Letty had run home to their old house to lug their big canning pot out of the storage closet, but she didn’t have any spare jars to use for Tucker’s harvest. Soafter her shift at the diner, Claire would go buy the items.

Out of the corner of her eye, a light flashed. She turned her head to the sparkling façade of the local nail salon. The front was studded with shiny tiles and the sign had more bling than Boom Boom’s ankle cuffs.

Which looked pretty damn adorable, if Claire did say so herself.

Five cars were parked in front of the salon, and as she rolled past, one woman with blonde waves down to her waist strode out on teetering heels.

Ugh. Reedy was like a depository for alien life forms. Nine out of ten women in this town looked as if they’d stepped off a runway—from fresh-faced country girls who could grace the pages of a Country Outfitter ad to women who could fit right into the Playboy mansion.

Even that woman standing in front of the antique shop was gorgeous in a pinup-girl way—curves and blonde locks. As Claire drove past, a tall man she recognized as the town’s orthodontist wrapped his arms around the woman from behind.

Jealousy panged in Claire’s soul. She ran her fingers through her kinky hair. WhatTucker or Christian had seen in her at the start, she had no idea. She’d only had Tucker for two months and spent the last few weeks wanting him with a hunger that was almost primal.

When she approached the Quickie Mart, her heart thudded, then a goofy grin spread over her face. Christian’s truck was parked in the lot.

A laugh bubbled up her throat. “Christian, you little liar.”

This morning, Letty had made a big spread of pancakes and homemade blueberry topping, but Christian had rushed out, saying he needed to see to the lame horse in the upper field. As she had watched him running out to the truck, she and Letty had dissolved into hysterical laughter.

“That man hates his breakfasts,” Letty wheezed.

“Not if it involves a high fat content and a bun,” Claire said.

Claire slowed the car. As she sailed by the Quickie Mart, Christian emerged from the building, armed with a large-sized soda and a small bag, probably filled with greasy breakfast sandwiches or donuts.

Her smile didn’t stop all the way through her shift. Even though she heard about a man’s foot operation, detail by gruesome detail, and a young mom talked about how frazzled she was with raising her two-year-old alone, Claire offered nothing but smiles and support.

Maybe that was the reason Christian was in her life. He lifted her spirits, which she could then pass on to others. Spread the love. Even if he was stubborn to thenthdegree. Besides refusing Letty’s home-cooking, he was getting more and more protective of Claire, telling her to go inside while he worked into the night. Whenever she tried to insert herself in the task, he’d kiss her mindless, pat her on the bottom and send her off to the house. Before she realized he’d bewitched her again, she was already inside.

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