Page 8 of Wrangled Up

What? You purposely threw her away.

But only because his grief was so great. There was no getting over his fiancée. Heather had been his high school sweetheart. Hisfirst.Her family had loved him almost as much as Heather had and when Tucker’s parents had passed away within months of each other to separate causes, Heather’s family had become his.

Now he was stuck with assholes like Leon and Dale.

He did have a few cousins he still spoke to civilly, and one was Darcy. The sixteen-year-old was all cowgirl. Roping champion, voted most likely to win rodeo queen in her sophomore year. Right now, she had her heart set on cleaning up at the next fair with a prized alpaca.

Except her father, Leon, had no idea how to raise livestock, though he’d grown up around it. He’d gone off to college and gotten a business degree but knew little about the ranching his father tried to instill in him.

Darcy had her eyes on Tucker’s alpaca, Boomerang, which had a cozy little place on Tucker’s ranch. Every day he cared for it and talked to it. The strange-looking creature with the insanely long eyelashes had won Tucker over, and now he actually looked forward to getting up at dawn and seeing the stupid animal he’d won in a bet down at The Hellion.

Cresting a hill, Tucker directed his gaze to the sky. Heat had bleached it out today, creating a pale blue canvas for a few thin clouds. As always when he looked at the sky, he thought of Heather in heaven, riding gilded chariots and wearing flowing robes, her loose brown waves soft on her spine.

He’d fucked up so much in his life.Should have driven her to that concert. Should have asked Christian to stay last night.

Should talk to Claire.

Where would she be right now? He glanced at the clock on his dash. She’d be asleep after her late shift at the diner. He couldn’t contemplate swinging by her house and trying to wake her up. Her Aunt Letty would greet him with a shotgun, she was so protective of Claire.

That meant he had to go find Christian first. After a glance in the rearview mirror, Tucker cranked the wheel sharply to the left and did a one-eighty in the middle of the road, heading back toward town, where he knew his best friend would be out in the baking sun, working on the road crew.

Chapter Two

With the six-pack of beer he’d left The Hellion without last night, Christian climbed into his truck. Setting the frosty cans on the passenger seat, he turned back to close his door. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed dark, springy curls.

A jolt of electricity speared his chest and spread through his limbs, tracing paths through his system he didn’t know existed.

“Claire.” Her name came out as a rough whisper. He cleared his throat just as she approached his truck in a short denim miniskirt and blue suede cowgirl boots. Her hair was a wild halo around her head, and he longed to dig his fingers into the thick mass just to feel the tight whorls under his fingers. His own hair was curly as well, though he kept it clipped with a number two.

Her gaze flicked from him to the side of his truck, where his business logo was painted in dark blue against the white.

“Trimming Service, huh?” she asked.

He raked his gaze over her. Impossible not to linger on those tan little thighs. His balls clenched even as his cock stretched. He took in her tiny waist and the coral-colored tank top she wore, landing on her beautiful face. His breath caught. “You need anything trimmed?” he asked.

To his relief, a bubble of laughter burst from her. Her narrow shoulders shook and her curls rioted around her face. “I can’t take an offer like that, considering you’re wearingthatT-shirt.”

He glanced down to see what he even had on. After work, he’d run to his apartment and thrown on the first clean thing in the laundry basket, eager to be off to Tucker’s for their…session.

Christian’s black T-shirt was a souvenir from the rowdiest night of the year at The Hellion.Beer and Wild Girls,it said.

“The Woodstock of the West, complete with free love. You were there?” Claire asked. Mirth toyed with the corners of her lips. Hestared at the delicious bow of her mouth, desperate to do anything to get her to smile.

“Got the T-shirt, don’t I?”

She laughed again, musical notes that threaded into his brain and took up residence like a well-loved song put on repeat.

“This is what you do for a living? Trim trees?”

He nodded. “It’s a side job.” In the spring and fall, he got the most business—last year enough to pay off his truck loan. It also supported him between jobs. The construction work was fickle, and he was often laid off. In fact, after this road was done, Christian would be sitting idle.

With any luck, next year the extra income from his side job might afford him some heavy equipment to start up an excavation business. Putting in water lines, digging ditches and basement foundations.

“Where else do you work?”

“You know old Highway 3?”

“Yeah.”

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