One Night With a Cowboy (21 page)

“W
hat’s going on with tall, dark, and handsome?”

Emma’s daily phone interrogation shouldn’t have surprised Becca, but today she really
wasn’t in the mood for it.

Becca let out a short, humorless laugh. “I wish I knew.”

“What’s wrong?”

Since her sister’s question had actually sounded sincere, she answered. “I don’t know.
It feels like something’s up. He calls me. He’s sweet on the phone. He asks me about
my day and tells me about his. On the surface it seems like everything is fine . .
.”

“Except?”

Except before this weirdness started she wouldn’t have been talking to Tucker on the
phone. She would have been under him in her bed. “We make polite small talk but that’s
it. And it feels like he’s avoiding seeing me. He hasn’t come over in a week.”

“Why would he be avoiding you?”

She let out a huff. “I have no idea.”

“Here’s my opinion. If he wasn’t calling you at all, I would think he was maybe seeing
someone else . . .”

“Thanks for putting that image in my head.” She scowled.

“Oh, please. As if you haven’t thought that yourself. What I’m saying is, he doesn’t
sound as if he’s dumping you. It has to be something else.”

“Something else, like his secret wife and baby are back in town and he can’t get away?”

“You’ve been watching too many of those cheesy made-for-television movies.”

“Have not.” Becca reached quietly for the remote control and muted the current movie
on screen.

“Classes just started this week, right? Maybe there’s something going on at work,
and he’s busy or having a tough time.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, let me ask you this, have you asked him what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Becca, you need to. Jeez, just ask him. For a woman who makes a living out of words,
you really are a horrible communicator.”

Only her sister would say something like that to her. “I communicate just fine, thank
you.”

“Then call him right now and ask him what’s wrong.”

“But—”

“But what?”

She couldn’t voice aloud what she was thinking. What if he wasn’t alone? What if he
wanted to dump her and was trying to be nice about it?

“Becca, if you don’t call him, I will.”

“You don’t have his number.” She sneered at Emma’s threat.

“I can get it.”

She couldn’t deny that. Her sister, Internet guru, definitely could. “Fine. I’ll call.”

“Good. Then call me right back.”

“All right.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Now let me go so I can call him.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.” Nothing worse than a nosy, computer-savvy sister with no life of her own. Becca
steeled her nerves and hit Tucker’s number.

“Hey, there.” There was no
darlin’
in his greeting, but at least he had answered.

That she’d half expected him not to and let her call go to voice mail proved exactly
how insecure she was about their relationship right now. Which was kind of funny,
because to both herself and her sister, she kept denying there was any kind of relationship.

He wasn’t her boyfriend. They were just friends. Friends who used to have sex until
he’d started to avoid her.

“Hi.” Her heart pounded so hard it vibrated her body. “Can we talk?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”

The tone of his voice was more serious, sounded more ominous, than she’d ever imagined
it could. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. This was a clear case of be careful
what you wished for, and it was all Emma’s fault. If she hadn’t asked him to talk,
things could have kept going just as they were and she wouldn’t be facing him dumping
her now.

“Um, okay. Do you want to come over here?” Just what she needed, bad memories in her
new apartment, but what choice did she have? She wasn’t going to let him get away
with ending their friendship, and whatever else they were to each other, on the phone.
He’d just have to do it face to face.

Again there was that pause. At least this seemed to be hard on him. It would really
suck if it were easy.

“Do you think you could come to my place? Is that all right?” he asked.

“Sure.” Why not? Maybe then she could look for clues. Some sign of why he was ending
things. Evidence of another woman, such as tampons under the bathroom sink or diet
soda in the fridge.

“Let me give you directions.”

“No need. I have GPS.” And the online faculty directory bookmarked to the page with
Tucker’s information. “I’ll be right over.”

“I’m on campus still. I had a meeting with Logan. Can you give me an hour? Then I’ll
meet you at my place.”

“That’s fine. See you then.” An hour. She pressed a hand to her roiling stomach. Plenty
of time for her to be sick, fix herself up, and get to Tucker’s.

 

Tuck disconnected the call with Becca and opened the door to Logan’s office. He went
back to the chair he’d been occupying before Becca’s call had vibrated the cell phone
in his pocket and he’d excused himself to take it outside.

He dared to glance at Logan, seated across the desk from him. “Sorry.”

Logan drew in a deep breath. “Tuck, are you sure about this?”

“Yup. The wheels are already in motion.” He really didn’t need anyone putting doubts
in his mind at this point. The decision had been made.

“Those wheels can be stopped. Things can change hourly in the military. You know that.”

“I don’t want to change the plan. It’s best if I go. Besides, I’ll be back before
you know it. Six months is nothing. It’s just one semester.”

“The rest of this semester and the first two months of next, during which I’ll have
to get a replacement for all your classes.”

“Is that what’s really bothering you? Getting a replacement for the program?”

“Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?”

He took that as a
no
and that Logan had more of an issue with where he was going than his leaving. “Sure.
I’ve been to Afghanistan before.”

Logan let out a humorless laugh. “You were at a forward operating base. FOBs are nothing
like the outposts or the firebases you’ll be going to. The border regions are an entirely
different place.”

“I can handle it.” Tuck was many things, some good, some bad, but he wasn’t a pansy
or a coward. Whatever was thrown at him where he was going, he’d deal with.

“You being tough enough to handle it is not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Of all people, he had expected Logan to support this decision.
It would give him the space and perspective he needed right now when things with Becca
were moving too fast and getting far too complicated.

“Hell, I don’t know. All I do know is this woman shows up here and you haven’t been
the same since. Maybe that right there is my point.”

That was funny coming from Logan, the guy who’d said Tuck should get back on the horse.
“You’re the one who forced me to go to that damn wine mixer for her to begin with.”

Of course, Logan hadn’t known at the time he and Becca already had a past—however
brief. Or that Tuck would be incapable of keeping his hands off her once they were
reunited.

“I didn’t think you’d blatantly flout the damn rules. Taking her out in public. Smooching
against the Shakespeare section in the campus library. Are you insane?”

Actually, if they were going for alliteration, it would be more accurate to say there’d
nearly been
coitus in front of the Chaucer collection
since Tuck hadn’t noticed any Shakespeare behind Becca when he’d been grinding against
her, but he didn’t dare correct Logan. “I know, Logan. It was crazy, which is why
I’m leaving.”

“My point exactly.” Logan spread his hands wide while shaking his head. “Giving up
the ROTC billet and volunteering to go to a battalion in Afghanistan is not a normal
reaction to the situation. Couldn’t you just be more careful from now on?”

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense.” This conversation was starting to make Tuck’s
head hurt. In one breath Logan was yelling at him for being with Becca, and in the
next he was encouraging him to be with her.

“Neither does your decision to volunteer to go to Kunar for six months. I talked to
a guy who’s been where you’re going. Men come out of there changed. He said if the
hundred-and-thirty-degree heat and tarantulas didn’t get to you in the summer, the
sheer boredom in the winter would. Then there are the IEDs . . .” He let the sentence
trail off, obviously aware Tuck knew exactly what happened when soldiers got hit with
one of the insurgents’ improvised explosive devices.

“The platoon currently there is nine months into a fifteen-month tour. They needed
some new blood to rotate in for the last leg of it. I’ve got combat experience and
I needed a change. It’s a perfect match.” Tuck shrugged.

Yes, the IEDs were a real danger, but heat and spiders? Seriously? That’s what Logan
was using to try to dissuade Tuck from going? Hell, Logan should try sleeping in a
horse trailer after it had been sitting in the sun all day the way Tuck had on a few
occasions while rodeoing with Jace full-time.

“I don’t know what to say to you to change your mind.” Logan shook his head and let
out a breath that sounded filled with frustration.

“I’m not changing my mind, Logan. Just tell me what you need me to do before I leave
to help with the transition to a new instructor, so I can get out of here.” He glanced
at his watch, remembering Becca would be at his place in less than an hour.

“Why? You got a hot date tonight?” Logan’s tone showed exactly how unhappy he was
with Tuck at the moment.

“No, and I’m not supposed to tell you even if I did. You don’t want to know, remember?”
He raised a brow in challenge.

No hot date, but he did have a woman to . . . To what? Say good-bye to? Break up with?
Not that they’d been dating in the first place. It was more like he was going away
for a little while. Just taking a break from their being together.

He wanted Becca, but he sure as hell didn’t
want
to want her. Not this much, this soon. And who knew if she wanted more from him?
Then there were the rules and the risk they were taking breaking them. A risk to her
career she couldn’t afford to take.

Compared to women, war seemed exquisitely simple and uncomplicated. Maybe after six
months of blowing shit up, he could come home with a clear head and know exactly what
he wanted and what to do about getting it. But right now, things with Becca were about
as clear as mud.

T
ucker was just getting out of his truck when Becca pulled her car in behind him, her
heart pounding, her mouth dry.

This was it. The beginning of the end. It wasn’t lost on her that though she’d insisted
they weren’t dating, both to herself and to Emma, she was awfully fearful he’d break
up with her. She’d freely admit this situation—their situation together—was confusing,
but that didn’t mean she wanted it to end.

Maybe this was the time to stop being a sissy and take a chance. Actually commit to
a relationship again. Just because Jerry was a dick of a boyfriend didn’t mean Tucker
would be. And it really did seem as if he didn’t roam the country riding both bulls
and babes as she’d originally feared. Most days he worked from sunup until sundown
with the ROTC and the rodeo students.

She realized she’d sat in her car procrastinating, avoiding getting out, for long
enough. Too long considering Tucker was standing in the driveway waiting for her.
In fact, she’d taken so long, he was now moving toward her. Gentleman that he was,
he reached out and opened the door for her.

A hot guy capable of amazing sex, who was polite and had a good job with benefits—why
had she not wanted to commit to a relationship with him?

Because she was afraid he might not want her, that’s why.

The little voice in her head that consistently undermined her rational thoughts whispered
again, planting doubt where just seconds ago there was none.

She glanced up at him as he reached to help her out of the car. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled but it had a strangely sad look to it. “Come on in.”

He dropped his hold on her hand and turned to lead the way inside.

Becca didn’t know a lot right now—things had gotten very strange very fast—but if
she knew anything, it was that Tucker was a hand-holder. He had been from the very
moment they’d met, even before they’d had sex. That he’d released his hold on her
now was not a good sign.

As the voice of doubt got louder in her head, she braced herself for the big brush-off.
The I-think-we-should-just-be-friends speech. Or maybe the I’ve-met-someone-else excuse.
Following him to the door, she realized the blame lay squarely on her own shoulders.
She couldn’t even blame Emma for putting her in the current situation. At least not
totally.

Sure, Emma had bought those rodeo tickets and practically thrown her at Tucker that
night, but what happened after the rodeo, and after their unexpected reunion at OSU—that
was all on Becca. She’d picked up that phone and asked him over. She’d kissed him
more than willingly when he’d barely put down the take-out food bag in her kitchen.
And ultimately, she’d said let’s just be friends—friends with benefits.

This mess was all Becca’s, and following Tucker through the door of his house she
prepared herself to clean up the pieces of her pride after he shattered it. She refused
to admit, even to herself, that her heart was going to be pretty well bruised along
with her ego after the impending dumping.

The condo was cool and dark as the air conditioner pumped cold air and the window
blinds kept out the heat of the day. He pulled off his camouflage hat and tossed it
onto a table right inside the door.

When he flipped on a wrought-iron table lamp, it illuminated a space that was all
male. If testosterone was a decorating style, this would be what it looked like, but
not necessarily in a bad way. A Native American print blanket hung on the back of
the distressed brown leather sofa. A nubby tweed reclining chair, cowhide rug, and
a rustic wooden coffee table piled with books on war completed the seating area.

“This is nice.” Her gaze cut to a row of hooks on the wall that held his cowboy hat,
chaps, and some distinctly cowboy-looking ropes.

A Manhattan decorator would have hung those things to enhance the rustic Western style
of the room, but she knew good and well from having seen that stuff in use, he was
simply storing his gear there between rodeos. He was an intriguing, complex man. She
probably should have appreciated that more when she had him.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile. “You don’t have to be kind and
say you like it.”

“I wasn’t. Really, I’m serious. It’s perfect.” She glanced around the room again.
“It looks like . . . you.”

“Yeah, I guess that was the point when I bought all this stuff. But I sure ran up
a hell of a lot on my credit card the month I moved out of the house.”

Ah, a post-breakup shopping spree. Maybe men and women weren’t so different after
all, though she’d been too depressed to leave the house so she did her shopping online,
and her purchases comprised more purses and jewelry than furnishings.

Through an open doorway she saw a tiny galley kitchen, and there was a closed door
off the living room. The bedroom most likely. Judging by how far away he was standing,
and the absence of his usual lip lock the moment they were alone, she wouldn’t be
seeing that room.

She swallowed hard and turned back to him. “Well, you did a good job.”

“Thanks.” He delivered his thank-you along with a nod. “Want a beer?”

A beer? They were definitely in the
just friends
mode now. Maybe there was a game on TV and they could kick back and eat nachos or
something, like they were old buddies. She decided it was time to get this dumping
going. “Do I need one?”

One of his brows cocked up. “I don’t know. That’s up to you.”

Since he looked as if he wasn’t going to offer anything willingly, she pushed him
further. “What’s going on? Things are different between us and if you don’t want to
see me or be friends anymore, I’d rather you just tell me than—”

He strode to her so fast, it seemed as if she’d blinked and he was there, gripping
her arms in those big, rough hands that never failed to let her know she was truly
being held. “Don’t ever think I don’t want you. That’s not it.”

She believed him. He might not be the best communicator lately, but she’d never known
him to be a liar. “Then what?”

Tucker drew in and released a long, deep breath. “I’m deploying to Afghanistan.”

“What?” She shouldn’t have been so surprised at his announcement. He was standing
in front of her in uniform. The twin tapes on his chest, right at her eye level, spelled
out his name on one side and his branch of service on the other, yet she was as shocked
as if he’d just announced he’d booked a flight on the next space shuttle. “When?”

“Soon. Real soon actually.” His regret showed clearly in the tense way he held himself
and the sadness in his eyes.

She shook her head, still having trouble wrapping her brain around the concept. “How
long have you known?”

“It all happened pretty fast. I haven’t known it was definite for very long.”

She took a steadying breath and moved on to the next question, not sure she wanted
to know the answer. “How long will you be gone?”

“Things change a lot in the military, and in that region particularly, but it shouldn’t
be much more than six months. Seven, maybe.”

Six or seven months? Whole lives could change in that amount of time. Hers certainly
had done a one-eighty from where she’d been six months ago.

“I’m sorry, Becca.”

That statement surprised her more than the news of the deployment had. “Sorry for
what?”

A shadow clouded his features. He looked like he wanted to say something, then changed
his mind. He shrugged. “That I’m leaving.”

She frowned. “It’s not your fault. You can’t help where the army sends you.”

“Yeah, well, still. I’m sorry.” For the first time since the confession, he pulled
back and dropped his hold on her.

Becca stepped closer, into the safety of his arms. Now of all times, knowing she wouldn’t
have him around anymore, she needed him close. It didn’t take long before he drew
her tight against him, his thick arms encasing her. Even with her face buried in the
stiff fabric of the utilitarian uniform, she felt better. Safe. Held.

He was a good hugger, and it seemed now he’d confessed what had been bothering him,
the ban on touching had come to an end. Not that it would do Becca any good for very
long, because soon he’d be gone.

She hated to ask it, but forced herself. “When exactly do you have to leave? Can you
tell me? Do you know?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. The motion moved his chest beneath her cheek. “I fly out
next week. But . . . my mom isn’t handling my leaving as well as I’d hoped. I promised
I’d go home and spend as much time with the family as I can before I leave.”

Surprised, she looked up at him. That was sooner than she’d imagined, and now he was
telling her he wouldn’t even be around until he left? She felt a little nauseated
hearing it. “How far away do they live?”

“It’s still in Oklahoma but it’s a few hours’ drive. This is a big state.” He looked
so apologetic, she couldn’t be upset—or at least she shouldn’t be.

“Oh.” Squelching the sick feeling in her gut that this could be the last time she
saw him, she pulled back enough to make eye contact. She squeezed her arms around
his waist a bit harder. “Then we’d better not waste a minute of tonight.”

The surprise was clear in his features. Good to know she could throw him off kilter
as easily as he could her. “Ah, Becca. You’re amazing. Do you know that?”

She glanced at what she hoped was the bedroom door. “I think I might need you to show
me.”

 

It was different, their good-bye sex. It felt like the end. She had no doubt he sensed
it, too. They’d only been together a handful of times, but she knew how sex with Tucker
usually was, and it was nothing like this.

Gone was the always playful, sometimes adventurous, and usually naughty lover she’d
grown accustomed to. In his place was a tender, gentle, reflective man. It was as
if he were trying to sear the image of their last time together into his mind. He
ran his hands over her body as if committing every curve to memory.

He watched her face while loving her, until she could almost physically feel the intensity
of his stare. And after he’d shuddered within her, he collapsed and stayed there for
what seemed like forever, his face pressed into her hair, his breathing unsteady,
his heart pounding against her chest.

Finally, he asked, “Did you eat dinner?”

“No.” Her response was muffled beneath him.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” The sick feeling in her belly returned every time she thought of him going to
a war zone he might not return from.

“Can you stay a little longer?” His question was so soft, so hesitant, it almost didn’t
sound like him.

“I can stay as long as you want me to.”

“Good.”