Page 81 of Wrangled Up

Inside, Claire made a beeline for the cold meds. On the way to the back of the store, she passed an older couple that frequented the diner. Just making eye contact forced her to stop and listen to them talk about their son who was overseas in the military and how he’d been injured. That morphed into five minutesof political talk, which Claire couldn’t care less about.

Finally, she wished them a good day and headed to the medicine aisle. There, smack in the way, was Marcella Evans, the craft shop lady.

Bracing herself for an onslaught of gossip sometimes more disturbing than what people told Claire from their own lips, she plastered a smile on her face and eased past her.

“Morning, Claire, honey. Haven’t seen you or Letty in the shop for a bit. Not since you gathered all of those supplies for what was it…?” She pressed a finger to her lips in thought. “Oh yes, the alpaca.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire caught a jerk of movement. In the main aisle, the rodeo queen’s head had snapped up. She stopped in her tracks.

“What was it you were making for the alpaca again, dear?”

Claire darted a glance at the girl, who was listening intently, a crinkle between her perfectly sculpted brows. “Uh…just some ornaments for her to wear to the fair.”

“Oh yes, that’s it. You plan to show it yourself?”

At that, the rodeo queen drifted into the medicine aisle. Three of them in the small space made Claire want to spin and flee.

She planted her heels. “Yes, I entered the paperwork yesterday.”

“Do you have a picture of the items you made for the alpaca?” Marcella asked, leaning in and fogging the air with a cloud of wintergreen mints. “I like to see what my customers make with the supplies they buy.”

“What?” Claire grew aware that the rodeo queen was staring. She wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop on their conversation by looking at anal suppositories or nicotine gum.

“A picture?”

“Oh yeah, I have a picture on my phone.” Claire dug in the back pocket of her worn jeans and produced her phone. After flipping through some photos, she held up the device for Marcella to see a shot of Boom Boom bedazzled in ankle cuffs and a rhinestone head wrap.

“That’s Boomerang,” the rodeo queen exclaimed in a breathy whisper.

Claire gaped at her. “What? How do you know?”

If this girl was one of Tucker’s conquests…

No, she didn’t even look eighteen. He wouldn’t dally with an underage girl.

Then again, maybe the rodeo queen wasn’t as young as Claire suspected. Shit, now she just felt old, worn and put away wet.I thought I couldn’t feel any less glamorous.

“Excuse me, Marcella. I have to just…”

The older woman looked between Claire and the other girl, obviously hungering for more gossip. But she gave a nod and moved off toward the shampoo.

“You must be the woman living on Tucker’s ranch.” The girl narrowed her eyes.

“I am. And you are?” She tried not to let the worry about Tucker’s previous lovers seep into her voice. She drew a deep breath.

“Darcy Langley.”

Claire felt her eyes flare with surprise. The top forty country radio station drawled in the background. “Tucker’s…?”

“Cousin. Leon’s my dad.”

Ahh. Spoiled daddy’s girl with the thousand dollar boots.

When Claire didn’t respond, Darcy snatched the phone from her hand. Before she could get over her shock, Darcy had thumbed the screen, looking at several shots of Boom Boom and landing on one Claire had shot the previous day of Tucker, Christian and herself. Their heads were close together and the sun was fading in the background.

Claire grabbed her phone out of Darcy’s hand. “What do you need from me exactly?”

Darcy’s lip curled. For a staggering moment, Claire could only see Darcy’s brother in that snide expression. “Boomerang is my animal. Tucker has been raising it up for me to show at the fair. Didn’t you know?”

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