Page 51 of Wrangled Up

And Boom Boom. Such a silly, dim-witted creature, but one she loved.

She sniffed back the sting of tears and raised her head. Pulling her lips tight against her teeth in some form of a smile, she drove out of the parking lot and down the road toward Reedy’s hardware store. There she spent forty-five minutes at the cash register while Marla Crump, the old owner’s daughter who had the misfortune of losing her beauty to a house fire as a child, poured her lonely heart out to Claire.

So by the time Claire left the store armed with all the supplies needed to harvest Tucker’s crops, she was once again thankful in her heart for the things she had, and her watery smile was almost real.

* * * **

Tucker’s heart groaned as he glanced at his phone and found two missed calls from Claire.

“Dammit.” He threw himself into the hard-backed chair in front of the shabby laminate hotel desk. Lacing his hands behind his head, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling. Ugly space. Goddamn ugly excuse for a human being was living in it too.

What was he doing, drifting between diner and bar and hotel room, as if this was all he needed in life? The wide open plains called to him. An itch to return to his life had long ago begun deep in his blood, but he ignored it. He was good at ignoring things.

He let his hat tip off his head onto the floor and played connect the plaster dots on the ceiling. Was it his imagination, or did they create a big L pattern over his head?L for loser.

Hurting Claire like this ate at his soul. She loved him, and fuck, if he didn’t feel something for her too. How had she gotten past his steel defenses?

All of a sudden, he jackknifed forward, elbows digging into his thighs, head in his palms. Jake Mickelson was getting under his motherfucking skin with his damned talk about his daughter. Relating stories of Claire’sgood deeds and her sweet disposition. As if Tucker didn’t already know.

His cell buzzed in his lap again, and he growled in frustration. His resistance was too low as it was—if he saw her name on his digital display, he was damn well going to pick up.

But it wasn’t her. His uncle’s name flashed across the screen.

Tucker ground his molars until his jaw popped. With the flick of his thumb, he stabbed the talk button. He jerked the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“What a surprise that you’re answering your phone two days in a row.”

“Get to the point, Leon. I don’t have a lot of time.”All I have is time.What was he going to do with the gobs of time on his hands? His horses would be tucked into their stalls back on the ranch. And what of Christian? Was he sprawled on a recliner, cock in fist?

He had to put it from his mind. Drawing a deep breath, he carefully spoke. “Listen,Uncle,I know you’re waiting for me to come home and sign those papers—”

“Damn straight. When’s that gonna happen?”

If his weasly relative were in front of him right now, Tucker would fit his hand very precisely around his throat and squeeze ever so slightly. At least until the man’s eyeballs bulged.

“You’re gonna be waiting a long time, because I ain’t signing those papers. Bradley Coal is not getting another piece of my land, no matter how big or small.”

“And the money?”

“I don’t care about the money. Never did.”

“Then what do you care about? If family is so unimportant to you, and your friends even more so—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tucker leaped to his feet and did a quick rotation of the cramped room. Past the bed, bathroom door, back to the laminate desk.

“These so-called friends of yours who are living in your house. They claim you haven’t been in touch with them.”

“Jesus, you’ve been there? For what? Hassling them.” The last was a dead statement. Of course Dale and Leon would be riding outto Tucker’s ranch. He was an idiot for overlooking that possibility in the first place. It must have been the reason for Claire’s shaky voicemail.

There was a beat of silence, while Tucker envisioned the smug look on his uncle’s face.

“If you trouble them, so help me…”

“What? You’ll find your balls and come home and man up to your responsibilities?”

That was exactly what Leon wanted. Also what Tucker should do. Dammit, how galling that his manipulative relative was right in this matter.

“Just keep yourselves on your own property, Leon. Christian and Claire—” his voice broke in speaking their names, “—they aren’t part of our ongoing discussion about Bradley Coal.”

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