Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (18 page)

“What a surprise that you’re answering your phone two days in a row.”

“Get to the point, Leon. I don’t have a lot of time.”
All I have is time.
What was he going to do with the gobs of time on his hands? His horses would be tucked into their stalls back on the ranch. And what of Christian? Was he sprawled on a recliner, cock in fist?

He had to put it from his mind. Drawing a deep breath, he carefully spoke. “Listen,
Uncle,
I know you’re waiting for me to come home and sign those papers—”

“Damn straight. When’s that gonna happen?”

If his weasly relative were in front of him right now, Tucker would fit his hand very precisely around his throat and squeeze ever so slightly. At least until the man’s eyeballs bulged.

“You’re gonna be waiting a long time, because I ain’t signing those papers. Bradley Coal is not getting another piece of my land, no matter how big or small.”

“And the money?”

“I don’t care about the money. Never did.”

“Then what do you care about? If family is so unimportant to you, and your friends even more so—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tucker leaped to his feet and did a quick rotation of the cramped room. Past the bed, bathroom door, back to the laminate desk.

“These so-called friends of yours who are living in your house. They claim you haven’t been in touch with them.”

“Jesus, you’ve been there? For what? Hassling them.” The last was a dead statement. Of course Dale and Leon would be riding out to Tucker’s ranch. He was an idiot for overlooking that possibility in the first place. It must have been the reason for Claire’s shaky voicemail.

There was a beat of silence, while Tucker envisioned the smug look on his uncle’s face.

“If you trouble them, so help me…”

“What? You’ll find your balls and come home and man up to your responsibilities?”

That was exactly what Leon wanted. Also what Tucker should do. Dammit, how galling that his manipulative relative was right in this matter.

“Just keep yourselves on your own property, Leon. Christian and Claire—” his voice broke in speaking their names, “—they aren’t part of our ongoing discussion about Bradley Coal.”

“Oh? Seems you might want to get back and see what’s happening on your ranch, nephew.” With that, Leon clicked off.

The roar of frustration erupted from Tucker’s chest. He hurled his phone to the bed and paced three more rapid-fire loops around the room. Then he sank slowly to the bed and stared at his hands. Hands that should be caring for his own animals and crops.

And caring for Claire.

He drew a deep gulp of air and lay back on the mattress again to find new letters in the plaster of the ceiling.

A pair of C’s taunted him—so close yet so far away.

Chapter Eight

The sweet fragrances of Claire’s citrus shampoo and female arousal stimulated Christian all over again as he leaned over her. She was curled on her side, dark curls mashed to her cheek and rose lips parted in sleep.

He hovered over her for a moment, drowning in her scents and battling the need to jump back into bed with her. But dawn was a bright prick on the horizon, and it was time to take care of the stock.

He trailed his lips over her temple, and she roused.

“Stay in bed this morning, sweetheart. Sleep in and I’ll do the chores.”

She mewed in reply and tilted her face up to his. He stared at her closed eyes, the dark webs of her lashes and her full, smiling pout. Unable to wait until she was fully awake, he swooped in for a kiss.

Her lips gave under his, and she opened to him, somehow tasting delicious even after sleep. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, his cock distending instantly with the need to sink into her hot body.

She lifted a fist and twisted his shirt, directly over his heart.

A grunt left him as he held her face in one hand. Emotions filtered into his head, telling him exactly what he should do.
Claim her. Take her. Cherish her forever.

Yesterday she’d asked him to hang a blinged-out name sign on Boomerang’s pen. And while he drilled holes in the wood and screwed it to the wooden fence, she’d hitched herself up on the rail and watched. Smooth legs dangling inches from his face as he crouched to work.

Something about that moment would live forever in his heart, because it was so real. He wanted to do crazy things for her for the rest of his life.

He slowed the kiss, nuzzled her little upturned nose. “Sleep, baby.”

“Okay,” she murmured and turned back onto her side, immediately drifting off.

Christian stared down at her for a full minute. How had it happened in such a short time? In his past, he’d counted himself in love twice before, but this was a helluva lot different. That hitch in his heart had nothing to do with a slow tumble into love. This was a desperate need to possess and to make her love him back.

His shirt was still crumpled from her hold on it. He smoothed his hand over the spot, just to touch something she’d touched.

With a shit-eating grin on his face, he quietly eased out of the bedroom, walked down the hall and let himself out of the house. Letty would have a warm crock pot of oatmeal ready for him, but he would face it later. Right now, he wanted to get these horses cared for. Recently, he’d spotted one in the upper field limping.

He ran through his daily routine with the chickens and the horses in the barn. Later, he’d turn the few in the barn out to pasture. He had no idea if this was an action Tucker would approve of, but Claire had advised it, and Tucker wasn’t here to say differently.

The air was crisp this morning, tinged with autumn. He drew it into his lungs and savored the turn of seasons. Even though the change brought new dilemmas, such as how to harvest fields of corn. Claire and Letty could deal with the kitchen garden, but those forty acres of corn worried the hell out of him.

Up in the field, he slowly moved toward the glimmering brown body of the limping horse. It moved gingerly along the fence line.

He approached with care, taking in the lines of the horse’s back and haunches. All looked well. Its head was down, though, and that was different.

As he progressed through the pasture, he started talking to the horse, just as Claire did. “I’m here to see what’s up with that hoof, boy. Is it sore?”

The other horses were clustered in the bottom of the field, grazing. But this one was all alone. A stallion. Huge and intimidating.

Christian preferred heavy equipment to big-bodied animals, but at the moment, this was his gig, so he’d roll with it.

For how long, though?

He pulled a hoof pick out of his back pocket and eased up to the animal. “Hey boy. I’m going to check on this back hoof. Clean it out and make sure it’s all right.”

The horse swung its head around and gave him a baleful look. Christian patted its nose. “I know. It sucks to be lame.”

A year ago, he’d spent six weeks of the spring laid up with a broken foot, caused by a slip in a ditch. A minor break that had cost him money in his trimming business. Mostly, it had driven him wild to be out of commission.

“I sympathize. Lemme have a look.” He ran his hand down the horse’s leg, and it allowed him to fold it upward to look at the hoof. With the pick, Christian scraped away the debris around the frog. The horse’s hide shivered, and it gave a snort.

“Tender, I see. Wonder what the hell a person does to fix that?” He probed the area above the hoof and didn’t see anything amiss, but it was a strange color compared to the others.

Gently, he lowered the hoof to the ground. The horse stamped a foreleg and snorted.

“Okay, I’ll consult with someone.” Who, was another question. Alone, he couldn’t afford to call a vet in, but Tucker’s money had been dumped into his account.

Nope. Not using it.

There had to be a hundred old timers around these parts willing to give sound advice. Letty might even know.

He patted the horse’s flank and loped off toward the house again. The chickens were hard at work, foraging for food. Several scattered out of his path. On the way to the house, he picked up the basket of fresh eggs. Letty had proved herself with oatmeal, and today she’d likely try to ply him with eggs and biscuits and gravy, but what he really wanted was a fountain drink and a couple of donuts. Hard to sneak off to the Quickie Mart without the ladies of the house taking offense though.

He started across the yard to the house, but a noise in the barn brought him around.

Singing.

A clear, high voice. Claire crooning to the animals. His smile spread like fire licking dry kindling. Heat surged in his chest.

He set the egg basket down and stepped into the dark depths of the barn. Dust motes swirled crazily in the morning light slanting through the vents. He turned automatically toward the sound of her voice.

Her tone dipped to a husky murmur, and the scuff of her boots on floorboards kept beat. She paused in her song to speak to Noddy, the oldest mare among the stock. Not that he’d know—he was going off her words.

“Let’s dump out this old grain and get you new, eh, girl?” As the pellets hit the trash bucket, she resumed her singing.

Christian’s eyes finally adjusted, and he picked out the lines of her body. Round hips in a denim skirt. Slim T-shirt ending just above her waistband. As she moved, skin flashed, making him harden painfully.

He strode in and caught her up mid-line of her song. Her eyes widened as he slammed his mouth over hers. He bent her back over his arm. The feed scoop clattered to the floor, and she spun her arms around his neck.

“Need you. Now.” He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, each pass growing in intensity.

She moved close, her body locked to his like Velcro. He laughed into her mouth, and she bit his lower lip.

With a growl, he reared back. Her eyes were dark with lust, her lips swollen. Fuck, he needed to find out if she was wet.

“You’re gonna pay for that, sweetheart.” Sliding his hand down her taut belly, he moved lower, fumbling under the hem of her skirt.

Her slippery folds met his fingers, unhindered by panties.

“Jeezus,” he gasped, mind whirling with lust and passion and so much more. “You’re slick and ready for me.”

“That dream-kiss we shared this morning had me all worked up.”

“And you thought you’d let me find this soaking wet treasure, hmmm?” He bathed her lower lip with his tongue, teasing the corner of her smiling mouth. She darted her tongue out to meet his, and they wrangled for another long minute.

He walked her backward, aware of a hay bale against the wall. A horse blanket hung on a nail, and he snagged it. His fingers were still wet with her cream, and he wanted nothing more than to draw them under his nose and inhale her need.

Soon.

Not soon enough. He tossed the blanket over the hay bale, gripped her shoulders, and spun her to face away from him. Planting a hand on her lower back, he pressed her down until she was bent over the bale, ass up.

Her breath came in short pants, but she didn’t beg. Not yet. Hell, he couldn’t wait to make her ask him to fill her.

Shuddering, he stared at the fine curves of her thighs. The skirt rode high, inches from her wet slash. He slipped his fingers into that crevice and met with even more wetness.

“You’re gonna kill me, woman.”

She cooed as he traversed her tight seam with his fingers. Her outer lips were engorged, a juicy treat. He probed deeper and found her core scalding hot.

She pressed back against his hand, and he drove two fingers into her channel, burying them to the first knuckles.

For a moment, he pinched his eyes shut and let the heat travel up his wrist to his arm and higher. His cock battered the front of his jeans like an untamed beast. Curling his fingers, he stroked the spongy inner wall of her pussy.

She flooded his fingers.

“Holy…Christ.” He withdrew his fingers and dropped to his knees. Pressing the denim over her hips, he exposed her to him fully. The first taste stole all control. Wildly, he plunged his tongue deep into her cunt, licking and tasting her want.

For me. All for me.

Her sweet juices coated his lips and chin, but he wanted more. Shoving lightly on her lower back, he caused her to arch and give him total access. He ran his tongue over her lips and inner folds, up to capture her straining nub.

She cried out, and he swore to every god in the universe that she was pulsating already.

“That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back. I’ll make you come twice this way before I take you.”

“Yessss.” She wriggled.

He circled her clit, painting it with his saliva and her juices. With the point of his tongue, he ground it into her body. He held still, allowing the pressure to build within her.

Then with a quick flick, he strummed her bundle of nerves.

She came undone.

Cream soaked his chin. He licked her madly to the sway of her ass against his face. Long, hoarse cries escaped her.