Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (26 page)

“I’ll do that.” Dale gave a nod and started to back toward the barn door as if afraid Tucker would tackle him from behind.
Good. I fucking might yet.

At the opening, he paused. “Oh, yeah, and I saw one of your horses up in the top field limping. Someone as conscientious of his stock as you will surely be concerned.”

With that, he disappeared.

“What. The. Fuck?” Tucker said to the silent barn.

“What was Dale doing here?” Claire’s voice vibrated the air like a gong in his soul. She stepped through the back door and closed it behind her.

Tucker ground his molars. The last thing he wanted to tell her was that they were squabbling over Boom Boom.

Her gaze took in his expression, which must have been thunderous. Then she tripped across the space and into his arms. He caught her against him, enfolding her tightly. Never wanting to let go. Dale had brought Heather into his mind again, but he had Claire to chase away her ghost.

He trailed his lips over the top of her head. “My cousin is sticking his nose into business that isn’t his.”

“He’s fueled by money. Did you see his boots and coat? He must require a lot of money to keep up his appearance alone.”

As always, she was a keen observer. Not only of people’s physical appearances, but she probably knew Dale’s depths and capabilities better than anyone.

Tucker locked her curves to him and replayed his conversation with Letty in his mind. He couldn’t hurt Claire—would do anything but keep her around for his own ends.

That meant that Claire deserved to be brought into the circle of trust. Tucker had never discussed his worth before, but if anyone deserved to know, it was her. They’d fill Christian in later.

He eased his hold on her, allowing her a bit of room. Catching her gaze, he gave her a small smile that felt tighter than he wanted. He dragged a deep breath into his lungs.

Before he could speak, she ran her fingertip over the silver ball stud below his lip. “You never told us why you decided to get this. It’s not exactly commonplace for cowboys around here to have piercings.”

He glanced down then returned his gaze to hers. “It means something to me.”

“Things like that usually do. What does it mean?” She held her breath as if awaiting the worst.

Sliding his fingers over the crest of her cheek, he then skated them down to her full lips. The pink curves taunted him. Too easily he could recall every nuance of her kisses. And her mouth on him.

He snapped his attention back to her before he got a hard-on and ended up pounding her against the barn wall and forgetting to tell her about his real situation with his family.

“The piercing symbolizes a new beginning for me. When I…
ran
…I left behind people who are important to me to chase a ghost.” His voice broke, his throat tight on the word that meant his lost love.

Claire’s eyes darkened with sympathy, but a spark of something else lived there. Sadness? Did she think he’d never love her as much as he’d loved Heather?

“Go on…” she said quietly.

“Well…” he looked at his boots, then back up, “…some people believe that hanging silver in a stable will keep ghosts away.”

Confusion settled over her features.

He traced the outline of her mouth with his thumb. “And in the stable that houses my soul, I’ve hung my silver.” With his other hand, he flicked his lip stud.

Understanding flashed in her dark eyes, quicksilver bright. A soft sound broke from her, and she lurched onto her tiptoes at the same moment he claimed her mouth.

Desire coated his nerves, numbing him to anything but this woman. Claire, beautiful girl who deserved a better man than him. But maybe between him and Christian, they could fulfill her every need.

Tucker drove his tongue into her mouth, gathering her flavors. He started to harden, lengthen, and clamped down on it immediately.

When he withdrew, she followed him. He groaned and grasped her shoulders, holding her steady while he told her the reality of the situation—the reason that his family would probably try to put him in the grave if he refused to sign those papers on the wall.

“Baby, I have to tell you about Leon and Dale.”

“Yes?” Her voice was a breathless whisper. He glided his finger along her collarbone, feeling her tripping pulse.

“They want me to sign those papers because it’s worth millions of dollars to them.”

“Chris and I figured it was something along those lines.”

“And it affects me quite a bit too. If I sign, I lose my clean water for my stock and the ranch is a worthless wasteland.”

She nodded, a little curl bouncing on her brow.

“But if I don’t sign, I lose out too.”

“How so?”

“I lose two million dollars that could be added to my already sizable fortune.”

Her breath hitched as if he’d run a finger over her slick seam. Damn, he wanted to. “Sizable…fortune?”

“Yeah, I’m sitting on an egg here, as is Leon. I want you to quit your job at the diner, baby. Let me take care of you. We need you on the ranch.”

She started and blinked at him for a moment. Finally, the tension flowed out of her shoulders. “I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve taken care of myself forever—well, with Letty’s help. I’ll have to think about it. I do love being on the ranch rather than listening to people talk my ear off. But I wouldn’t accept your offer without working for it.”

He glided a hand down her side, giving her the eye.

“Not that. I’ll be in charge of the alpacas.” Her tone was so solemn, he searched her face for signs of emotion, afraid she’d be angry that he’d kept this information about his fortune from her, after two months of dating. Hell, he’d never even bought her the trinkets of a typical beau—flowers, charm bracelets.

After a long minute, she looked him fully in the eyes. “So I’ve been fucking a millionaire all this time?”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at her question. “Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you can use your money for things.”

Unease threaded through him. He didn’t peg her as a money-grubber, but…

“Like what?”

She lifted her wrists. Each wore a little pink circlet where the rope from the previous day had chafed her white skin. “I know you boys are fond of your ropes, but could we please get something a little softer? Silk? Satin?”

A huff of laughter and relief burst from him as he yanked her into his arms. He dangled her inches off the wooden floor and with her lips dangerously close to his. Leaning in, he captured her mouth in a long, tongue-tangling kiss that left her gasping and him as hard as a fucking telephone pole.

“Silk it is, baby.” He whirled her to the wall, pressed her back against it and proceeded to maul her mouth, breasts and finally dropped to his knees and worshipped her pussy until she was a puddle of sweet female.

The silver in the stable was doing the trick.

Chapter Eleven

A rivulet of sweat ran between Christian’s shoulder blades and all the way to the waist of his jeans. The sun ground him and Tucker into the Wyoming dust. Indian summer had returned with a vengeance, and Christian was half surprised this morning not to have received a call from the road crew. On good days, they scrambled the team to eke out another day of work.

He had, however, received a phone call for a side job to be completed over the weekend. That meant some cash flow, which was always good. Especially since he’d invested in the shipment of horse feed while Tucker was away. He’d never accepted the cashier’s check and had no need for it now. His personal bank account was in the black and he wouldn’t need much to sustain himself.

Christian jammed the point of the shovel he was using into the earth and peeled off his T-shirt. They’d already dug five post holes for new fencing, but they had a sight more to go, by his estimate.

“Gettin’ hot.” The rasp in Tucker’s voice made Christian look up. His lover’s gaze was locked on Christian’s torso. A jolt of awareness ran through him.

“Yeah. Could use more of that teasy wind.” In these parts, it wasn’t unusual for a cold breeze to blow, which dropped the temperature considerably. Unfortunately, today the breeze wasn’t showing its fickle face.

Christian went back to digging holes. The silence between them was companionable. Working together toward a common goal besides making Claire scream in release felt good.

“When are those alpacas showing up?”

Tucker had gone to auction the previous day and bought fifteen new alpacas to keep Boom Boom company.

“Tomorrow at noon. Claire’s inside whipping up booties for them now.” Tucker caught Christian’s eye, and they shared a grin.

“Why’d you buy them again?” Christian swiped a gloved finger over a bead of sweat on his brow.

“I don’t know. Price was right. Felt like it. Claire’s going to take care of them. One of them is for my cousin. I promised her.” Tucker kept his gaze trained on the hole he’d just dug deep enough to fit a post.

“Claire agreed to stay here and be alpaca mistress? That’s surprising.” Christian snorted in a way that punctuated his sarcasm, but Tucker detected a hint of worry.

“She’s thinking about it. I want you to stay too.”

Christian glanced at him. “That so?”

“Yeah, I could use the help, and you’ve more than proved yourself.”

“And you wouldn’t possibly want me to stay for other reasons.”

Tucker grinned, sweat zigzagging down his jaw. “Plenty of other reasons.”

Smiling, Christian hoisted one of the heavy steel posts, carried it to the hole and dropped it in. Tucker immediately started shoveling dirt around it. When it stood upright on its own, Christian employed his shovel to tamp down the soil.

“Six down. Thirty to go.”

“Then we’ve gotta check on that lame horse again.”

Yesterday Tucker had informed him that Dale had appeared to hassle him some more about the papers and had left on a word about an injured horse.

The second injured horse on the ranch since Christian had gotten involved. He didn’t know a lot about the ranching business, but it seemed fishy to him.

“So you think Dale did something to that horse?”

Tucker jerked. From under his hat, he eyed Christian for a long minute. Shock spread over his features.

“What?” Christian asked. “You didn’t think of it?”

“No. Jesus,
no
. My family is capable of doing a lot, but hurting animals on purpose?” Tucker chopped at the ground, creating deep slices like macabre smiles. Finally, he looked up at Christian again, a muscle jumping in the crease of his jaw. “You think this could be the case?”

“It’s possible. And Claire thinks he’s capable. Your family’s been here before on four-wheelers with shovels on the backs.”

“Shit, you talked to Claire about this?”

“After the first horse was hurt.”

“
What?
” Tucker threw down his shovel and faced him. Wrath played over his rugged features like a tornado eating up the surface of a volcano. Apocalyptic rage. “He hurt my fucking horses?”

“I don’t know that for sure, man. Just a theory. But yeah, a horse in the top pasture was limping. I checked it myself, and when I figured out what was wrong with it, Claire talked to some people and I spoke with Cyril Wells down at the feed store about how to care for it.”

Tucker’s shoulders relaxed minutely, but a vein throbbed violently in his throat. “You did right, Chris. I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t think about telling you. It’s just part of day to day life, right?”

Tucker considered his words. “Yeah, sometimes a horse comes up lame. But not two—not my horses. C’mon.”

He strode away. Christian grabbed his shirt from the ground and headed after him. They jumped into Tucker’s truck and sped up the ridge. The high weeds on either side of the dirt road reminded him of Claire and the moment when he’d spotted her in the middle of the road. His heart had surged with absolute love. Quite the same as the sensation he felt when Tucker had returned.

He clamped a hand on Tucker’s firm thigh muscle. His lover looked at him sharply, as if still deep in his anger. Then his expression grew less severe. He covered Christian’s hand with his, warm and gloved.

“If Dale and Leon are fucking with my horses, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“I know,” Christian said with mild amusement.

Tucker’s lip quirked up reluctantly, and he squeezed Christian’s hand. “I want you to take a closer look at this horse and tell me if you think the injury is the same.”

“Sure.”

A minute later, they were inside the fence. Tucker stuck two fingers in his mouth and blasted a shrill whistle that brought several of the horses running toward them. Christian watched with admiration as Tucker controlled his stock with skill.

He picked out the limping mare easily among the group.

“Ease up to her now. Don’t want her to spook and kick.”

Christian shot him another amused look. “I know.” He’d done this a time or two in the weeks Tucker was gone. He was no longer the skittish guy around the animals—tending them was like breathing now.