Page 6 of Wrangled Up

Christian inched a hand across the table and stroked Claire’s tense white knuckles. She jerked away. His thick eyebrow rippled then settled over his concerned gaze. Taking a deep breath, he said, “He and Heather were engaged for a year. They were literally days away from the wedding. Hall decorated, tux rented, dress hanging in her closet.”

Claire’s stomach pitched and heaved, and it wasn’t helping that the house special tonight was meatloaf.Heather.Now that the name was emblazoned on her brain, she’d never stop wondering what the girl looked like, if she was prettier or more fun than Claire.

“What happened between them?”

“She died in a car accident. It took her swift. On a dark road at night, coming home from a concert with friends, a sort of last hoorah as a bachelorette.”

A ragged breath left Claire. “That actually explains a lot about Tucker.”

Christian bobbed his head and took a sip of water. “Unfortunately, I don’t know if he’ll ever pull out of his grief. It’s like he caved in when she died. I’ve tried for two years to yank him back into the living, but…”

“But no one can compete with a memory,” Claire murmured, staring blankly at Christian’s clenched fingers. She ticked her gaze up to his and saw raw pain there as well.

“None of us can.” His voice was calloused, rough across her skin.

And though he didn’t come out and say it, she knew that the man before her was in love with Tucker too.

* * * * *

Thick mud clung to the soles of Tucker’s boots as he crossed the pasture to meet theriders on horseback—his kin, though they looked like a posse coming to string him up.Well, that’s probably what they’re here for, in a way.

High grasses churned around his calves as he strode toward the two riders. From a closer look at the expensive drover coat of the man on the right, he recognized his Uncle Leon. That meant the other rider was his cousin Dale.

“Fuck,” Tucker growled and dug his boots in, taking out his frustrations on the very land they were fighting over.

In the distance, the steady beep of a back-up alarm on heavy equipment broke the peaceful quiet of the Wyoming ranch.

Tucker tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “Boys,” he said as his relatives drew up a few feet from him.

“Tucker,” Uncle Leon acknowledged. The man was decked out in expensive new jeans and boots, and his hat didn’t have a speck of dust on it. He definitely liked his money, which was probably why he wanted Tucker to sign off on more of his land so he could gain more of the green stuff.

Dale’s horse danced a bit, and his cousin gained immediate control, wrapping brandnew leather reins around his gloved fist. The horse’s tack shone—not from a good polishing and care, but because it was new too.

“I like the new saddle, Dale. I see you even had your initials tooled into it.” Tucker peered up at his cousin, wishing he could rip him off the horse and beat him into a pulp. He and Dale were oil and water. Or in this case, coal and water.

Uncle Leon didn’t beat around the bush. He stared over Tucker’s head in the direction of Tucker’s house and barns. His lean, freshly shaven cheeks pulled in as he pursed his lips.

“Coal company needs those papers signed, Tucker. You get around to doing that?”

“No,” Tucker drawled, hooking a thumb in his jeans pocket. Adrenaline surged in his system, but he wasn’t about to let on that he was anything but cool. His bastard family would take advantage of any weakness.

Uncle Leon’s gaze snapped to his. “When you going to do that, son?”

“I ain’t your son, and don’t know as I am. If the coal company digs up all of your ground and ruins your water, that’s fine by me. Keep on supplying those people on the Gulf Coast. But they aren’t touching my land.”

“Not even for three million more dollars in your bank account?” Dale sneered.

To Dale, money was air. But Tucker thought more of the land, the ranch. He needed to preserve it if he wanted to raise healthy horses. And where Bradley Coal wanted to dig an escape access for a new mine, they’d surely contaminate Tucker’s water source. What good would his ranch be without water for his horses?

“Look here, Tucker, I didn’t want to play this card—” Uncle Leon began.

“Then don’t,” Tucker cut him off. He narrowed his eyes, coming just short of glaring at his family members. While he wished like hell he could just kick them off the property that had been left to him by his parents, a soft spot for the thought of family kept him from doing so. Hell, when he and Dale were little, they’d actually played in the sandbox together. Too bad the kid was such a jackass adult, greedy and money-hungry.

Tucker sighed. “I’m not out to start a family feud. You’ve taken your portion of Grandaddy’s ranch and turned a good profit from the natural resources. I intend to do the same—with my stock.”

Leon’s lip curled and the fine white line of his mustache rippled. “You received a sizable sum from the access portal on the north two hundred acres, if I recall. Benefitted quite handsomely.”

The last thing Tucker wanted to discuss with his family was his bank account. Yeah, he had enough to live on for the rest of his life. Hell, his children’s lives. If he ever had any.

---