Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (3 page)

Leon’s lip curled and the fine white line of his mustache rippled. “You received a sizable sum from the access portal on the north two hundred acres, if I recall. Benefitted quite handsomely.”

The last thing Tucker wanted to discuss with his family was his bank account. Yeah, he had enough to live on for the rest of his life. Hell, his children’s lives. If he ever had any.

Heather’s glowing face rose up in his mind’s eye, and he fought the sudden emotion that flared to life. She should be here now, standing beside him, maybe with a little one on her hip.

Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “Bradley Coal can dig their escape access on that two-hundred then. Or dig it on your land.”

Leon leaned over on his horse’s neck, putting his face close to Tucker’s. Gritting his teeth, Tucker held his ground.

“They
are
digging on my ground, in case you don’t remember that I’m doing what’s best for this family.”

As Tucker had inherited a portion of all mineral rights on his grandfather’s property, he got royalties off everything that his family did to their portion of the ground.

“That portal needs to go in, Tucker, or Bradley Coal can’t dig the new mine. Which means they’re pretty much done with us.”

Tucker bobbed his head. “Seems as if we all have enough money.”

Dale made a hissing noise.

“What’s that, Dale? You in need of more custom-made saddles? More sports cars?”

The kid smiled but before he could speak, Leon turned his horse and gave a “yaw” to order it across the pasture, away from Tucker.

Dale and Tucker stared at each other for a long moment. Still holding his gaze, Dale wheeled his mare around and sent her after Uncle Leon.

“Well, that went well.” Tucker kicked his heel into the turf, creating a divot. Striding for the far end of the field, he drew deep breaths to regain his precious control. The whole time he’d spoken with his relatives, his stomach had quivered with nerves. In the past two days, he’d been agitated, annoyed.

Ever since Claire.

No. Ever since Heather.

He stared at the big pine cluster where several of his horses gathered in the shade, but all he could imagine was the look on Claire’s face as she beat in his truck. He’d hurt her, and she had reason to do that damage. But she’d caused some destruction of her own—she was the first person to nearly slip into his damaged heart since Heather.

Tearing off his hat, he shoved his long hair off his face. The first time he’d set eyes on Claire at the summer festival, he’d been drawn to her. And not only for the way his body responded—his cock standing at attention in seconds. But for the sweetness of her tone when she offered him lemonade from a big glass punchbowl. And from her eyes—two deep pools that made a man fall in headfirst.

Heart and all.

He never should have asked her out, knowing that flurry of excitement in his chest was too close to what he felt for Heather. He should have run like hell. Instead, he’d dated Claire for two months, and what an adventure those months had been.

She’d made him laugh with her carefree view of the world. Set him on fire between the sheets with her hot little mouth and tight, wet pussy.

But as soon as he realized the blaze was getting too close to his heart, he went out and did the only thing he could think of—he grabbed Allie at The Hellion and took her home to share with Christian.

Except Tucker hadn’t laid a hand on the blonde beauty. Instead, he’d gotten off on watching his friend fuck her seven ways to church day. And if he was honest, he loved looking at Christian’s body more than the woman’s.

Tucker veered away from the horses and headed down the dirt path leading to the house. His dented pickup stood in the drive, reminding him too much of Claire.

He’d never had a woman react so strongly to him. When she gave herself, it was wholeheartedly. In bed, in the barn or in the field. And how often had she given him that searing look that melted his very bones as well as the wall he’d erected after Heather died? A you’re-my-entire-universe-I-want-us-forever look.

He threw open his truck door and slid in. Twisting the key in the ignition, he barely waited for the engine to start before slamming the Ram into reverse. He backed out in a cloud of dust and floored it for the main road, narrowly missing the massive pot holes at the end of the drive.

He bumped up and down but locked his boot on the gas pedal. He had to get off the ranch and clear his head. Claire, Heather…even Christian. They were all part of this property. Tucker could barely look in any direction without memories haunting him.

Christian had stormed off last night and Tucker hadn’t heard from him since. Probably just as well. Their jack-off sessions were growing more frequent. What had started as some innocent fun on a Saturday night with too much beer had morphed into a craving.

Tucker loved to see Christian’s thick cock in his hand, his strong fingers pumping to a rhythm Tucker practically needed now to climax solo. His shaft swelled just thinking about it.

But last night when Christian had said Claire’s name, it came with a peal of alarm bells in Tucker’s mind. The fevered light in Christian’s eyes indicated his interest in the curly-haired cowgirl.

Which would not do at all.

Pressure mounted in Tucker’s chest. If his so-called friend came within a country mile of Claire…

What? You purposely threw her away.

But only because his grief was so great. There was no getting over his fiancée. Heather had been his high school sweetheart. His
first.
Her family had loved him almost as much as Heather had and when Tucker’s parents had passed away within months of each other to separate causes, Heather’s family had become his.

Now he was stuck with assholes like Leon and Dale.

He did have a few cousins he still spoke to civilly, and one was Darcy. The sixteen-year-old was all cowgirl. Roping champion, voted most likely to win rodeo queen in her sophomore year. Right now, she had her heart set on cleaning up at the next fair with a prized alpaca.

Except her father, Leon, had no idea how to raise livestock, though he’d grown up around it. He’d gone off to college and gotten a business degree but knew little about the ranching his father tried to instill in him.

Darcy had her eyes on Tucker’s alpaca, Boomerang, which had a cozy little place on Tucker’s ranch. Every day he cared for it and talked to it. The strange-looking creature with the insanely long eyelashes had won Tucker over, and now he actually looked forward to getting up at dawn and seeing the stupid animal he’d won in a bet down at The Hellion.

Cresting a hill, Tucker directed his gaze to the sky. Heat had bleached it out today, creating a pale blue canvas for a few thin clouds. As always when he looked at the sky, he thought of Heather in heaven, riding gilded chariots and wearing flowing robes, her loose brown waves soft on her spine.

He’d fucked up so much in his life.
Should have driven her to that concert. Should have asked Christian to stay last night.

Should talk to Claire.

Where would she be right now? He glanced at the clock on his dash. She’d be asleep after her late shift at the diner. He couldn’t contemplate swinging by her house and trying to wake her up. Her Aunt Letty would greet him with a shotgun, she was so protective of Claire.

That meant he had to go find Christian first. After a glance in the rearview mirror, Tucker cranked the wheel sharply to the left and did a one-eighty in the middle of the road, heading back toward town, where he knew his best friend would be out in the baking sun, working on the road crew.

Chapter Two

With the six-pack of beer he’d left The Hellion without last night, Christian climbed into his truck. Setting the frosty cans on the passenger seat, he turned back to close his door. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed dark, springy curls.

A jolt of electricity speared his chest and spread through his limbs, tracing paths through his system he didn’t know existed.

“Claire.” Her name came out as a rough whisper. He cleared his throat just as she approached his truck in a short denim miniskirt and blue suede cowgirl boots. Her hair was a wild halo around her head, and he longed to dig his fingers into the thick mass just to feel the tight whorls under his fingers. His own hair was curly as well, though he kept it clipped with a number two.

Her gaze flicked from him to the side of his truck, where his business logo was painted in dark blue against the white.

“Trimming Service, huh?” she asked.

He raked his gaze over her. Impossible not to linger on those tan little thighs. His balls clenched even as his cock stretched. He took in her tiny waist and the coral-colored tank top she wore, landing on her beautiful face. His breath caught. “You need anything trimmed?” he asked.

To his relief, a bubble of laughter burst from her. Her narrow shoulders shook and her curls rioted around her face. “I can’t take an offer like that, considering you’re wearing
that
T-shirt.”

He glanced down to see what he even had on. After work, he’d run to his apartment and thrown on the first clean thing in the laundry basket, eager to be off to Tucker’s for their…session.

Christian’s black T-shirt was a souvenir from the rowdiest night of the year at The Hellion.
Beer and Wild Girls,
it said.

“The Woodstock of the West, complete with free love. You were there?” Claire asked. Mirth toyed with the corners of her lips. He stared at the delicious bow of her mouth, desperate to do anything to get her to smile.

“Got the T-shirt, don’t I?”

She laughed again, musical notes that threaded into his brain and took up residence like a well-loved song put on repeat.

“This is what you do for a living? Trim trees?”

He nodded. “It’s a side job.” In the spring and fall, he got the most business—last year enough to pay off his truck loan. It also supported him between jobs. The construction work was fickle, and he was often laid off. In fact, after this road was done, Christian would be sitting idle.

With any luck, next year the extra income from his side job might afford him some heavy equipment to start up an excavation business. Putting in water lines, digging ditches and basement foundations.

“Where else do you work?”

“You know old Highway 3?”

“Yeah.”

“The place with all the orange cones. I’m the one with the shovel.”

Her grin stretched wide enough to reveal a tiny dimple in her cheek, which reminded him of Tucker. The man had a dimple in his chin that distracted the hell out of Christian, especially when Tucker was in the throes of ecstasy.

Too bad Tucker had broken up with her. If she already had feelings for his friend, she might not be averse to letting Christian in on the action.

For a moment, he drowned in images of her golden skin against Tucker’s cowboy tan, of their hips meeting and parting to a slow beat while Claire opened her lips around Christian’s cock and he succumbed to her warmth.

But Christian wanted to convince his friend to reconsider his relationship with Claire for more reasons than the hot sex Christian might take part in. Tucker needed her. And though she was smiling, an underlying glint of pain in her eyes made Christian’s heart flex.

“You going in there to have a drink?”

“I’m meeting friends,” Claire answered. The fast notes of a Jason Aldean tune blared through the door of The Hellion as it opened and a group of girls vanished into the dark depths. When Christian glanced back at Claire, she was bootscootin’ in the parking lot—a little Baby Bop step that drew even more of his attention to her legs.

She stopped and grinned. “In fact, that’s them. I’ll see ya around, Christian.”

The sound of his name on her lips slowed his pulse. He watched her ass shake all the way to the door. She went inside without a backward glance.

She wasn’t interested in him. It was Tucker she loved. She was just being nice, making conversation. Her smiles didn’t mean more.

Too bad Christian’s body didn’t understand that.

With a throbbing hard-on, he headed toward Tucker’s ranch. His friend had swung by the construction site this morning and shocked Christian with an apology. The warmth that had blossomed in his chest at the harshly spoken words spread through him now.

You’ve got it bad.

Well, even if Tucker would never let Christian close to him, he still got to see his eight rigid inches in his hand and Tucker’s bright blue eyes, glassy with pleasure. Christian’s dick distended his fly, and he nudged it to give it ease.

It had been two days since their last session with pay-per-view. The thing was, the visuals were background noise. When he and Tucker jacked off together, their gazes were on each other.

By the time he reached the Langley Ranch, he was aching. Throbbing to get into that rustic farmhouse and his cock in hand.

To see Tucker.

Inside, the living room was empty. “Tucker?” he called, heading for the kitchen with the beer. The old-fashioned porcelain sink stood full of dishes and the floors were dusty with mud. But no Tucker.