Page 88 of Wrangled Up

Dale writhed. “My shoulder! Stop!”

“Why should I stop? You’re hurting our horses. Maybe you’ve hurt our alpacas. Why shouldn’t this be a shoulder for a hoof?”

Then again…why not negotiate to get what he, Claire and Tucker really wanted—for the other Langleys to leave them alone?

Keeping pressure on his arm, Christian leaned over him so Dale didn’t miss a word. “You quit trying to get Tucker to sign those papers or else I’ll open my mouth and bellow for him now.”

Dale shook his head. “Can’t.” He panted shallowly, as if the pain were too much. Probably was.

“Can.” He plied his arm. “Say it or I call him and he’ll beat the livin’ hell outta you in addition to this multi-faceted shoulder pain.”

Dale groaned.

“No more contract. And you stay off this land.”

When Dale lay still like a slug, Christian drew an exaggerated breath as if ready to yell. “Owww! Yes, okay. Deal! Just don’t call him. Damn you, I’ve got a lot of money to call in a lawyer and sue you for pain and suffering.”

A film of red settled over Christian’s brain. With one last sharp twist, he shoved Dale’s arm and jumped up. While the man groaned in pain, Christian hauled him to his feet and gave him a push in the direction of his home.

“Get off this ranch before Tucker finds you. Because you’ll be dealing with more than a hurt shoulder.”

Dale took off at a run, cradling his limp arm to his body.

For a jaw-grinding moment, Christian watched him. Fury warred with commonsense. He could go in there and get Tucker and let him deal with the mess, or he could keep quiet and spare Dale’s life. Yesterday when Tucker had learned that more than one horse had been injured, and most likely by his relatives, Christian had never seen such an expression on his lover’s face.

Whoever was on the receiving end of that look should be terrified for his life.

Spinning on his boot heels, he strode toward the alpaca fence. Sure enough, Dale had been about to cut the top two wires strung between posts.

With a sigh, Christian pocketed the wire cutters, got into his truck and started it. As he drove down the driveway and toward town, he tugged his hat lower, then lower still. Couldn’t they just have some peace? After last night, he felt as if their souls had finally melded into one unit. Drifting along in that warm sea was all he wanted.

Tucker was at his vibrant best, scarred, but ready to move on. Claire was her sweet, quirky self. And Christian—happier than he’d ever been in his life.

Now he could be possibly sued for his rash action with Dale, but with any luck Dale would stop his father from pushing for Tucker to sign.

Christian flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. Damn, he could almost feel that shoulder joint pop. Fuck, what had he been thinking?

I wasn’t. Just protecting.

Something about that Dale guy disturbed him. On the surface he seemed fairly geeky, though covered in expensive clothing. But lurking in his eyes was something creepy.

Claire felt it—he knew she did.

No, he was being paranoid. Dale wasn’t dangerous—just a dumbass. He played big daddy’s game and was using manipulation and scare tactics to get what he wanted.

Well, either Dale would uphold his end of the bargain or he wouldn’t. Nothing for Christian to do about it. Right now he was on a mission. First he was going to fill his truck bed with enough feed to hold off sixteen hungry alpacas. Then he was going to flush those pig brains out of his system with a couple of chili dogs.

* * * **

The thunder of a hundred boot heels striking the dusty wooden floor of The Hellion greeted Claire as she entered. Tucker and Christian flanked her on each side, their pine, soap and musk scents giving her strength to face the crowd.

Tonight, she just wasn’t in the mood to socialize. When Christian had suggested they come out for a beer and a twirl, she’d easily given in to his smoldering look, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t feel like dancing…”

He’d grabbed her arm, twisted it so the soft crease faced up, then he buried his mouth in it.

Her knees went weak and her pussy burned with want as he ran his scorching tongue along the sensitive flesh that was far from an erogenous zone. But somehow, he could make it one.

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