Page 28 of Steers and Stowaways
Her lips parted in disbelief. “You don’t even like me!”
“You sure about that?” His feelings had crossed so solidly into the no-coming-back-from-here zone that there was no point in hiding them.
The fire in her eyes splintered into sparks of confusion. “I-I can’t do this right now, Tuck.” Her slender frame vibrated with restless energy.
He let her go and stepped back. “Okay.” Though he was disappointed by her response, he was grateful she wasn’t shutting him down altogether. Not that he had any right to pursue her in the first place. With the number of criminals who wanted him dead, it was safer for everyone for him to remain single.
He opened the door for her, and she darted out. He followed her at a slower pace, scanning the barn for the Lonestar Security team. His gaze settled on Gage and Rock on the far side of the room. They were huddled in conversation with a policeman—a real one, this time. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and the lights from genuineemergency vehicles were flashing through a nearby window.
Tucker was so busy assessing the room that he nearly plowed into Mallory, who’d stopped short in front of him. He clapped his hands down on her shoulders to stop his forward momentum. They stood there together, waiting while Gil Remington and Dave Phillips crossed in front of them, herding a pair of steers into one of the pens. The retired sheriff and linebacker-sized attorney were two of the four partners at Lonestar Security. Both were in their early fifties, a good twenty years older than the two retired bull riders who’d founded the company. Tucker didn’t know Gil and Dave’s entire story, only that they were best friends who’d saved each other’s lives more than once.
The way Gray and I used to be.
Memories that Tucker had long since buried about his former partner in the narcotics division surfaced. For a moment, darker thoughts enveloped him, making it harder to focus. Betrayal. Anger. The pain of a bullet grazing his chest, narrowly missing his heart.
A gust of icy-damp wind whipped through the open barn doors, pulling his thoughts back from the brink. Though he didn’t like the way it made Mallory shiver, he was grateful that the coldness snapped him back to the present. To her.
The scent of clean straw wafted their way as ranch hands moved around the room with mucking shovels, wheelbarrows, and fresh bales. He was acutely aware the moment Mallory’s head swung toward the spot where Skip had lain.
He leaned closer to her, bringing them cheek to cheek. “We can take his remains home in a box, if you’d like.”
Though she nodded, her next words weren’t about theyoung steer she’d lost. “Does anyone know how the older Dr. Ridley is faring?”
Wow!If they were dating, Tucker would’ve kissed her for asking. Instead, he settled for lightly squeezing her shoulders. Though her heart was hurting, her compassion for those around her remained solidly intact. She was the kindest, most caring, most incredible woman he’d ever met.
“He’s still kicking.” Conrad Cavender loped their way with his hat askew. He straightened it and pushed it further back on his head. “His son offered to drive him to the hospital, but he refused.” He eyed Tucker’s hands on Mallory’s shoulders with intense curiosity.
“His son shouldn’t have given him a choice.” Her voice was withering. “Dads are precious commodities.”
“So are cattle,” the senior Dr. Ridley hollered from inside one of the steel pens.
Mallory slipped out of Tucker’s grasp to hurry over to him. Again, Tucker followed her. They found the aging vet bent over the sick steer that had been muling packages for the cartel. The animal was no longer on its feet, wobbling around. Instead, he was stretched out on his side, taking intravenous fluids.
Mallory squatted down beside him, sucking in a worried breath. “Is he?—?”
“He’s stable,” Dr. Ridley assured with a heavy exhale. “I don’t normally get to say this in situations like these, but I believe he’s going to pull through. He just needs some rest and recovery time.” He winced as he reached inside his aid bag.
“So do you,” Mallory said firmly. “I’ll sit with him tonight.”
“Same.” Tucker squatted down beside Mallory, wavingtwo fingers in the air. He didn’t mind the thought of being sequestered with her and her beloved steer. Not one bit.
“Just tell us what to do before you head home,” she begged.
Dr. Ridley eyed her with new respect. “I can do that.” He quickly briefed them on what signs and symptoms to watch for and how to reach him if the steer took a turn for the worse.
“Thank you, Doc.” Mallory settled herself more comfortably on the floor beside the steer.
While Dr. Ridley tucked his supplies back into his medical bag, Tucker took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.
The way her faux green eyes grew all soft and melty was the only thanks he needed.
“Tuck,” she sighed. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep not liking you.”
He winked at her, liking how quickly they’d adopted nicknames for each other. “That’s the plan, partner.”Tuck and Mal. Mal and Tuck. He could get used to that pairing, though she was right about something else she’d accused him of. He’d very much enjoyed calling her Brat, too.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” she spluttered.
“You will.” He winked at her again, just to watch her turn pink. He knew he was playing with fire, but she was worth getting burned for. A long time ago, a mentor had advised him to find someone or something worth fighting for. It had taken nearly a decade, but Tucker had finally found his special someone.
