One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (5 page)

Chapter Six

It had been four days since the carnival and Tucker was pissed. Paint River Ranch was a mess of activity and it dug under his skin so deep, he could itch down to bone and still not make it go away. Thirty-eight thousand acres of ranch squeezed him, nearly strangled him, and there wasn’t a single place he could go that made any difference. He’d ridden into the mountains early this morning when the summer air was still fresh and crisp, hoping to dump the unease in his gut. It helped for a while, until he returned, the ranch coming into view and giving him a sucker-punch all over again.

The ranch was growing and not in a way that made him happy and excited. Their Black Angus cattle operation was at its peak right now, the pens and fields filled with the highest census they’d ever had. Beef prices were good at the moment, and that’s what Tucker wanted to focus on. Not the fresh construction that marred the ranch as a row of two-story cabins went in alongside the existing row. They already had twenty cabins, and soon they would have thirty. In the past year, they’d erected a small office for staff to take reservations, and a commercial kitchen building with a gourmet menu and room service. Paint River Ranch had been catering to tourists for vacations, weddings, and retreats for years, but after being featured in several travel magazines last summer, business had peaked.

Seemed every suit in a fancy car wanted a chance to experience the “wild West,” and they kept the place hopping. There was a constant melee of guests coming and going, event planners coming in for client wedding venue tours, and delivery trucks bringing supplies. Tucker could care less about any of that. He was happy burying his head in the ranching side of the business. If he never saw another bride or groom or tourist pulling in with a Mercedes, he’d die a happy man.

This land was meant for ranching, not catering to over-moneyed out-of-towners with the itch to play cowboy. Normally, Tucker wouldn’t have a thing to do with the guest portion of the ranch. That was his older brother, Cole’s, department. But since Cole decided to play ex-pat and go to Australia to visit his new wife’s family for a few weeks, Tucker was stuck doing it all. And he hated every second of it.

Ranch hands were supposed to move cattle out yesterday afternoon, but got held up with a bulldozer stuck in the mud, leaving the holding pen closest to the barn overflowing with cattle. Only pure luck kept them from spooking and charging through the fence. With all the construction going on, the packed round pen was a stampede just waiting to happen.

Tucker flicked the toothpick in his mouth. Giving himself a moment to sulk, he wished his brothers were home. The ranch house was too empty. Cole, his six-year-old daughter Birdie, and new wife Rylan were constants at Paint River and he missed them. The walls were usually ringing with Birdie’s non-stop chatter, and the floors littered with her dolls, plastic ponies, and stuffed animals. Tucker hadn’t stepped on a Lego in days and he missed it.

His younger brother, Levi, was due stateside from Afghanistan anytime now—they were just waiting on official word of his discharge from the Marines. Levi hadn’t been home in six years and Tucker missed him more each day—though he’d go to the deepest recess of hell before he’d admit it out loud. Maeve, their mother, was taking advantage of remission from multiple sclerosis and spent more time with friends, sometimes away from the ranch.

Tucker was a little lost without anyone to look after. For the first time in his memory, he didn’t have anyone to worry about but himself. Hardly a day went by that Cole or their mother didn’t need him in some way. Once everyone was home, life could resume normalcy and Tucker could get the hell away from needy tourists and focus on cattle and training horses and filling his days with the land. It couldn’t come soon enough.

He clamped down on the toothpick as a ray of sunlight streaked down over the grass in front of him. Brilliant yellow, the color matched a certain sunny bikini he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. Sophie had been one hell of a distraction, but it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.

He crossed his arms over the pummel of his saddle with an involuntary groan. She’d been fire and silk and comfort and passion in his arms and, for the first time he could recall, Tucker didn’t want it to end. Hook-ups filled a need: sex. He never spent the night, never called a woman for round two. Yet, he’d broken his own rule and asked Sophie to see him again. Yeah, that hadn’t turned out well. De-nied. Served him right for putting himself out there. He learned long ago that he wasn’t nice-girl approved. He was too much like his father had been—temperamental and self-absorbed—and Tucker was pretty sure he was lacking a gene that let him invest in other people’s feelings, just like his dad.

No, he wasn’t good for more than fun in the sack. By all rights, she’d had been too good for him anyway. City girl all polished up with her pretty nails and colorful hair. He tipped his hat back as the ray of sunlight began to fade away. Nice girls liked him because it gave them the chance to live out their wild side before they had to put their church face back on. Sophie had a wild streak, she’d let it out, and he’d enjoyed the hell out of it. They both had, but now it was over.

Done deal.

Except that his body kept aching for more of her, and he didn’t have a clue how to make it stop. In the four years since he’d left his fiancé, Jewel, he hadn’t wanted anyone for more than one night. He scoffed and clicked his horse into a trot. It served him right that Sophie shut him down. It was a good reminder that he wasn’t long-term material. He was usually pretty selfish with his needs and he’d never apologized for that. Women didn’t leave him without a smile on their face, that’s for sure, but he never left them wanting a repeat. Repeats led to relationships. So, he’d slipped the other night, but Sophie…she was a smart girl. She’d put him right back on track with her polite, “thanks but no thanks.”

Tucker rode into the barn, ducking as he crossed the threshold. Now as early morning squeezed down into the heat of the day, Tucker was ready to get those cattle moved and forget about Sophie’s long legs wrapped around him, her nails digging into his shoulder… Fuck. He shook his head. They had plenty of daylight ahead, and plenty of work to do, and he wanted to be far, far away from all the construction noise. Spotting his right-hand man and best friend, Jaxon Moore, Tucker trotted over and walloped Jax with his hat.

“Let’s go!” Tucker stopped the horse just as Jaxon grabbed the reins. “We’re getting the cattle out of that pen.” Jaxon smiled, flashing white teeth in a way that told Tucker something was amiss.

“You bet. Except we have a small problem. Twenty or so yearling heifers got loose. Boys are chasing them up right now.”

Tucker swore. Loose cattle meant he had a broken gate or downed wire somewhere. Once the herd was high in the mountain pastures, they were free to roam where the liked. But down here, where the place was swarming with people, they had to be extra careful about keeping the Angus contained.

“Where?”

“Guest cabins. I was just on my way over to help.”

Tucker stopped Jax with a hand. “No, I’ll go. Pack your gear. We need to move those cattle today. We’re going up to Harker’s Pass.” It wasn’t the highest pasture on their property, but it would take them up the mountain and demand most of the day. Exactly what he wanted. Tucker spun his horse and trotted down the aisle and out the back door. Mixing guests with everyday ranch work was something they tried to avoid, more for safety than convenience. All he needed was some little tourist kid to get run over by an errant yearling.

At the top of a small hill, Tucker looked down and saw the yearlings had been rounded in the grass behind the guest cabins. Two cowboys on horses and three herd dogs had them packed in a neat circle. Needing to be sure all was under control; he rode the length of the driveway in between the rows of cabins to check for any strays. Brady King cantered his horse around the last cabin on the left. He made two more passes around, repeatedly looking back at something Tucker couldn’t see. He figured Brady might be fighting with a slippery yearling, but Tucker didn’t see a dog. Paint River’s heelers were herd dogs to the core. Where there was a loose cow, there would be a dog rounding it up.

Brady looked up when Tucker approached, a furious blush spreading over the younger man’s cheeks. Without a word, he tipped his hat at Tucker and raced off to join the group. With a frown, Tucker rode over to the cabin. What the hell had that boy so damn entranced?

An Adirondack chair sat in a small patch of sunlight next to the cabin, and a woman in cut-off jeans and a tiny yellow bikini top, with sunglass hiding her eyes and a book in her hands, lay draped along its length. Tuck swept her with his eyes—he couldn’t help it—noticing her toenails were glossy red. His brow fell. The color of sunlight… That bikini top looked familiar.

“I swear, you ride that horse by me again and I’m going to bash its knees in with a baseball bat.” She lowered the book and Tucker’s heart slammed to his boots.
Hot damn.
She brought one hand to her face, dropped the glasses and Tucker grinned. Well, well. Leaning low over the saddle horn with arms crossed, he winked, his pulse rushing like a waterfall.

“It’s nice to see you too, Fifi.”

…

Sophie squinted as a cloud moved away from the sun and dumped fresh rays over her chair. A big brown horse stood perilously close, a cowboy with a black hat and familiar, shit-eating grin staring down at her.
Oh my god
.

“Tucker?” She swung her legs to the side of the chair and sat a little straighter.

“What are you doing here?” They asked at the same time. He laughed and brushed his hat back a little with one gloved hand. Sophie’s heart was rumbling at NASCAR speed, her mind racing with the impossibility of running into him like this. As if the past few days hadn’t been taunting her enough with his luscious memory, and now… He was here.

“I’m taking a vacation. From my sister,” she managed, her smile turning to a frown. The cloud moved and covered the light, giving her a full view of him. Sophie’s breath caught. His face was exactly the way she had been remembering it in her dreams, the sleepy-tipped eyes bright and heavily lashed, the kissable mouth holding a toothpick in one corner. His brown shirt was rolled to the elbows, long legs clad in light tan leather chaps that wrapped from hip to ankle in a loving hug. A peek of denim jeans and boot showed just beneath the edge. He was rugged, dusty, and the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. The instant, demanding pulse between her thighs said that her body fully agreed.

“That,” Tucker wagged a finger at her with a smile that reached his eyes, “is a very good idea.” The horse shifted weight between its front hooves with a snort that made Sophie jerk. She glared at its huge, hard hooves and inched a little to her left on the seat to increase the distance between her legs and the animal. She liked horses—the plastic kind impaled on a pole that bobbed up and down to happy circus music.

“You work here?” She stated the obvious because she was at a loss for anything more intelligent at the moment. Tucker sat on the horse with an easy grace and commanding hand that displayed he was well versed in handling all that power beneath him. It probably took years of experience to be that comfortable harnessing in the will and strength of another living thing and making it succumb to your will.

Or maybe Tucker had the same affect on horses that he likely had on women in general, and they just did whatever he asked because, well, he was Tucker. His shirt stretched over his bulging biceps and dipped into the flat length of his abdomen; peppered stubble on his jaw glinted reddish brown in the sunlight. Yep, he was just Tucker, with a voice that had soothed her carnival ride phobia, and a masculine beauty that could probably make a nun burst into tears.

“Ah, yeah. You could say that.” His words faded off a bit as his gaze dipped to her chest. Sophie followed his eyes, forgetting her girls were barely contained in the little bikini top. She’d moved the chair to the side of the cabin, figuring no one would see her since it was the last cabin in the row and a wide-open field spread before her. Usually, she’d be mortified to be seen in the skimpy top, but not now. Not with Tucker.

“I thought I’d ripped that top,” his voice dripped darkness, the heady vibration of each word spreading gooseflesh over her arms. Huh, maybe he’d been thinking about the carnival, too. The idea that, just maybe, he’d been replaying their time together in his head, just like she had been, made her flush clear to her toes. Without thinking, Sophie pinched her thumb and forefinger over the string near her shoulder and ran them down toward her chest.

“I fixed it. It’s my favorite.” She withdrew her hand, mortified when she realized what she was doing by running her fingers over the string—enticing him, teasing. Tucker sucked in a cheek, making a clear indent, while his lips went tight.

“Mine, too.” He looked over her bare middle, swept his eyes over her hips and legs with a hot expression. Her skin tingled like it had been a physical caress, each inch graced by his gaze, begging for his fingers to follow suit.

“So, why here?” he straightened in the saddle and made a sweep with one hand. “Why Paint River Ranch?”

She swallowed hard to bring herself back to reality. “Oh, Carla and Mark had a reservation here for the week, so Ethan could take riding lessons and what not. But Mark had to go out of town, and Carla offered it to me so I could get out of the house for a while.” No sense in telling him it was Carla’s passive way of holding Sophie at arm’s length, or that she couldn’t stand to spend another night under her sister’s roof.

Tucker cocked his head. The heady sexual tension between them seemed to snap, leaving a cool residue in its wake. They were suddenly just acquaintances, not one-time lovers, with the awkwardness of a first date where neither of them knew what to expect. And if she was reading his body language correctly—one arm crossed over his body, head tipped down so his hat nearly covered his eyes—Sophie figured Tucker couldn’t wait to high tail it out of there.