Damn.
“I think I’ll make up an excuse to go bond with my nephew,” Kane said rising from the couch. He sauntered out of the room. “Take notes for me, Tucker.”
Typical man disappearing when you needed him. First Laird. Now Kane. And now Tanner would think her twin was trying to upstage her by getting engaged on her wedding day. Or even worse that she’d deliberately brought Laird to their house knowing his past was a mystery. Damn. She’d almost made it. Just a few more hours.
“I told him to ask me in a year,” she hissed under her breath while mentally cursing Laird for disappearing. Where was he?
“You said it was an early Christmas gift?” Samara ignored Tucker’s comment. “How could it be another gift?” she demanded, her pale blue eyes, almost grey and so spookily like Kane’s, bore into her.
“Another?” Tucker asked.
“Who? How?” Samara hummed with tension. Her small, slim body practically levitated, and with one impatient jerk of her small hand, fingers covered with Native American–style turquoise and coral rings, she swung her long, silky curtain of black hair over her slim shoulder.
Tucker did not like Samara’s tone. She wasn’t completely sure what was going on. “Laird gave me this. And you’d better be real careful about accusing him of anything.” Tucker felt completely bewildered. How had Laird’s mom gotten Samara’s ring? “He got it from his mother.”
“Thief,” Samara hissed.
“Mom,” Luke interjected, reluctantly coming up off the couch. “Let’s just take a breather.” He walked softly for a tall athletic man, slow and gentle.
Tucker expected Samara to yell or push him away. She had heard stories about the volatile and wild Samara Wilder. Luke had said he’d been the peacemaker in his family, that his mother was loving but rocketed through moods and was quick to anger, nurse grudges. Instead she turned her face into Luke’s shoulders and burst into tears.
“I don’t understand,” she sobbed. “How can it all be happening again?”
He held her, rubbed her back and talked to her softly. Over her head, he looked at Colt who stared into the fireplace his features like stone. Talon had her cheek pressed against his broad, muscular back and one hand on his thigh, her finger traced a spiral over and over. As if he could read Luke’s mind, Colt looked up. He shrugged to an unvoiced question, and covered his wife’s hand with his, squeezed it reassuringly. Then he turned and kissed her, looking into her eyes, his expression unfathomable, but Talon smiled, leaned forward and kissed him again, softly, like a promise.
“It makes sense,” Tanner spoke up finally. “Not in a way I can explain, but I just felt so strange that first morning,” Tanner looked at Tucker. “It was déjà vu. He reminded me of Luke so much. I felt like that’s why you chose him, but then he would remind me of Colt the way he moved. The way he was so watchful and still.”
Tucker felt like an idiot. She might have seen it too if she hadn’t been feeling so sorry for herself and then if she hadn’t been so blinded by lust.
“I don’t understand,” Samara looked up at her son. “It doesn’t make any sense. My father said my baby had died. Then Heli saw the baby alive, but it was placed in foster care the next day and adopted away. You were my baby,” she said to Colt, her body shaking. “You were taken from me. From me and Heli. You had my necklace.”
Tucker fidgeted. To hell with waiting around. Being subtle. She’d never been good at it. And patience rarely crossed her mind.
“I’ll get Laird. He can explain.”
She hoped.
“Blood is blood and you’ll live forever in my blood,” Samara said, her lips stiff and face frozen.
The words just hung there, sounding like a promise as much as a curse. Tucker stopped in the doorway that lead to the mudroom. To the outside. To bitter cold and freedom.
“What, Mom?” Luke asked.
“Heli made it for me. It was my promise ring. It was taken from me that night,” she said. “Thirty years ago. The night my life was stolen. Heli. My son. My ring and my pendant. The night I died.”
Tucker knew Laird had left the house the minute she saw his boots gone. But his coat hung on a peg.
She swore. Colt was beside her. Tucker jammed her feet into her snow boots and her arms through her coat. She zipped and grabbed Laird’s coat, and checked the pockets for gloves. Double damn, they were there. Mouth grim, she opened the door, pushing past Colt who pushed back so they both stood on the porch scanning the yard.
Kane and Parker were in the process of making a snowman, but looked now to be more engaged in a snowball fight that Kane was letting Parker win. Sort of. The soft snow falling sprinkled Kane’s dark tumbling curls white, like winter highlights.
“Where’s Laird?” Tucker demanded.
Kane looked up just as Parker nailed him in the cheek.
“You got his leash, T, not me.”
“Did you see him out here?”
“No,” Kane held out his hands in a cross between a “look around” and “duh” motion. “His Jeep’s still here. No tracks.”
Tracks. She stepped out into the yard to find his trail, Colt was already heading toward the large storage shed behind the house.
“Why would he go there?” She ran after him.
“Didn’t,” Colt said tersely. “Don’t think he knew where he was going. He just went.”
Tucker turned around and scanned. Laird hadn’t headed toward the apartment or any of the barns. She followed Colt into the shed where he easily maneuvered one of the snowmobiles out of its berth. She looked on the hooks that held the keys, but Colt had already hotwired it. Dang that guy had skills.
“I’m going,” she said, tucking Laird’s coat under her arm.
“He’s going to get cold really fast.”
Tucker dodged around Colt’s body as he held the handle of the snowmobile and seated herself on the saddle-style seat, her dress practically hiked up to her waist.
“You’re going to get cold really fast.”
“Got it,” she said.
“What’s up?” Kane asked, lounging in the doorway like nothing was wrong. “You going after mountain man in a dress?”
“Hell yeah. He’s a stupid idiot.”
“All men are,” Kane grinned. “You know that. But Laird will be fine. He was the location scout for that extreme survivalist show about five years back. He’s led high-end climbing expeditions in the Himalayas and on most of the other continents. I think he can handle the terrain of the Triple T.”
“Think he had more on than a dress shirt when he did those things,” Tucker said. “Out of my way, Kane.”
She pushed the snowmobile out of the barn with her feet. She opened a box of Hotties and grabbed several, called to Dude and Ryder, and took off, seeing the faint footprints headed left as the snow gently fell, filling in the faint trail.
*
Walking through a snowy field in boots was so not cutting it as far as diffusing any of the noise in his head. What he needed was a peak, his crampons, and an ice axe. But he had none, nor did he have a destination, but he figured if he walked far enough he’d eventually fall from exhaustion or dehydration and his head would be blessedly still.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d been consumed with finding his birth mother, his twin, like that would somehow make him feel like he belonged somewhere, fill the hole that gnawed his heart. But he’d never once thought about after, when he found them. What they’d think or feel. Hell, what he’d feel. No wonder he hadn’t searched very hard. Even his subconscious knew his quest had been blind and idiotic.
What could he add to their lives? Nothing.
He had nothing. Was nothing.
And then just to add on to his uselessness, he’d asked Tucker for a commitment. To what?
He didn’t know who he was anymore or what he wanted to do. It was as if he’d come to a crossroads only it was a dead end. No straight. No left. No right. No back.
“Think,�
�� he yelled into the muted silence. “Think. Think. Think.”
Only he couldn’t. Everything he’d avoided: permanence, security, responsibility, connection, just kept rattling around in his head like bones. He’d lived his life from adventure to adventure. Chasing the next opportunity like giant bubbles blown by a carnival clown. Hell, other than his Jeep and motorcycle most everything he owned fit in his backpack and a storage locker in Boulder, Colorado, that held all his climbing and other athletic equipment.
He’s thirty today. Christmas Eve.
Happy fucking birthday.
The snow fell heavier and the light grew dim. He started to climb a low hill and finally paused a moment to try to soak in the silence. He no longer could see the lights from the house. He’d crossed a frozen creek quite a while back. He didn’t remember seeing any of this before, but damn it was beautiful.
Laird allowed himself to fall back so he could watch the fat flakes drift down toward him. He laughed at the sullen sky. The grey was almost the color of his biological mother’s eyes. His mother, he pictured her sitting like a queen on that narrow wooden chair, bewildered, a stranger. These past few months while he had stewed about being given up, about his adoptive mom keeping his adoption a secret, his whole existence had been a secret.
Didn’t get much more symbolic than that.
Miracle Lake. What a joke. Oh it handed out miracles all right, but added a one-two punch to the gut and an upper cut to the jaw just for fun. He remembered the ominous warning people would sometimes hand out: “Be careful of what you wish for.” Far away he heard the whine of a motor, and he frowned, preferring the peace. Laird spread out his arms and legs in the snow like he was making a lazy ass snow angle and let the warmth and heat of the snow envelop him as it fell on his face and perched on his eyelashes.
He’d always loved the snow. So pure.
“Get up.”
Laird heard the voice. Tucker. His heart turned over in his chest like an engine trying to start. He was hallucinating because she definitely wasn’t here. Wherever here was.
“Get your ass up now, Laird.”
He didn’t move, but did open his eyes. Still sky. He loved the way snow fell, so graceful, almost defying gravity. That was a song wasn’t it? From a musical. He tried to remember what it was, but it didn’t matter. His adoptive mother had loved musicals. Had dragged him to Denver whenever a traveling Broadway show came to town. And the community theater in Boulder. Why was he thinking of that now? She was dead.
“On your feet, Laird.”
Then he felt a sharp kick in his hip. He needed to have better, less painful fantasies.
Then a wet sloppy tongue swiped across his face.
Definitely not Tucker. Another tongue and a bunch of fur. He cartwheeled his arms trying to push whatever it was away.
“Get the fuck up now!”
Tucker’s face loomed over him. She was pissed. Her eyes blazed and her mouth looked mean. Still he’d love to kiss her. It seemed like all he’d thought about the entire month had been how much he’d wanted to lose himself in her beautiful mouth and heat and energy, but how much he shouldn’t start something he couldn’t finish.
“Hey baby.”
“‘Hey baby’ my ass. Get up or I’ll have Dude give you a matching scar on your other cheek, you idiot.”
He looked at her. God, she was beautiful when she was furious. He could look at her forever.
“Idiot. UP!”
Not the politest lover he’d ever had, but then they weren’t lovers, but he was in love with her, yet all they’d done was kissed. That suddenly seemed so funny to him. How he was so physical with women but the one woman he hadn’t yet made love to he’d fallen in love with.
“Stop laughing. Get on your feet.”
He tried to explain what was so funny, but couldn’t. Tucker made an exasperated sound and grabbed him under his arms and tugged him to sitting. He tried to help her, but felt so uncoordinated. Even that was funny, but something inside him started to sound a warning, but he couldn’t quite focus on it.
“Kinda like a radio when you’re losing the station,” he told Tucker.
“Yeah, you’re losing it, mountain man, but I’ll kick your ass later. One. Two. Three.” She dragged him to a tree. “Hold on to the branch.”
“What?” he asked even as he reached out to grab the trunk of the tree. Man his hands looked weird. White. Then Tucker roughly put gloves on his hands and pulled something out of her pocket and stuck it in both of his gloves.
“Ouch.”
“I bet. Hold on.” She tugged him up to standing. “Got it?”
He stood, leaning on the tree. Shit his feet hurt. And why wasn’t he wearing a coat? Tucker put his coat on and pulled out another package of something, ripped it with her teeth, shook it hard and put it in the front pocket of his shirt. She did the same thing again and put one in the pocket of his pants. Then she zipped up his coat.
She pushed the snowmobile towards him.
“Can you hold on or do I need to play bondage with you?”
“I like the bondage idea.”
“Smart man,” she pushed him toward the snowmobile and he climbed on. “Let’s ride, mountain man.”
The horse arena and apartment was closer. She went full throttle on the snowmobile and slowed at the last minute. At least Laird had held on. And the dogs followed them, barking joyfully. By the time they got to the arena door, Tucker cut the engine and dialed Talon.
“You’re the closest thing to a doctor. Do you think I can stick him in a hot shower or should I go warm first?”
She could hear Talon and Tanner conferring. Tanner Googled.
“Colt’s on his way over,” Talon said.
Tucker wasn’t waiting for anyone. “Into the shower,” she ordered Laird.
“I’m fine,” he said, as she used her body to herd him toward the studio apartment stairs. But his normally fluid, “fuck me” walk was more of a lurch and he was cursing, probably because his feet were tingling like hell. Good.
She pushed him like he was a recalcitrant cow up the stairs and once in the apartment she cranked the heat, made a Keurig brew, and then she turned on the shower. She’d go warmer than lukewarm and then fry Laird’s ass after for being so stupid.
She pulled off his coat and gloves then pushed him into a chair and pulled off his boots. Her movements were quick. Not gentle.
“What the hell are you doing? Jesus,” was all he said when she tugged his pants off and flung them away so hard they hit the wall.
“I don’t want our first time to be like this, when you’re all pissed off,” he tried to catch her hands to stop her, but his fingers were clumsy.
“It’s not going to be,” she said and pulled off his underwear.
Okay at least one part of him was coming back to life, but Tucker was worried and pissed and definitely not in the mood to admire. But maybe she should have kept those on. Too late. She dragged him to his feet again and pushed him toward the bathroom snagging the cup of black coffee on her way. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off.
“Drink,” she held it to his lips and pushed him into the shower.
*
Laird tilted his head up toward the wide spray. How could something feel so good and hurt at the same time? He let the water wash over his body. At first it felt cool, but Tucker was cranking up the heat. In between, she was forcing him to drink some of the strongest coffee he’d ever had.
“This is not how I imagined getting naked with you.”
Tucker laughed at him. “Me neither, but nothing’s going to happen until you grovel for forgiveness.”
“For what?”
“For running away like a little boy. For being stupid. For giving me that damn ring and then cutting out at the first potential emotional hurdle. For hiking and climbing all over the world and nearly getting hypothermia in my backyard.”
“Baby, don’t cry.”
“I’m not,” Tucker said throug
h her tears. Then she stepped into the shower and held and held and held him, crying and kissing but still having the presence of mind to turn the water hotter and to shove more coffee down his throat.
Laird choked.
“Drink,” she said as he pushed it back at her.
“I’m pretty sure you’re overreacting, and you’d make a lousy nurse.”
She grinned. “Remember that if you’re ever going to do something stupid again or get a man cold.”
He reeled her back in the shower. “Too damned bad because I’m going to do something stupid right about now.”
He kissed her deeply, losing himself in her heat and sweetness even as his hands, now working again, began to peel off her dress. He stared at her, dismayed.
“You’re still wearing your bridesmaid dress.”
“Yeah. You said you didn’t want me to change.”
“You came after me on a snowmobile wearing a dress?”
Tucker laughed. “Cowgirls are tough.”
“Show me,” he murmured, his finger reaching out to trace the swell of her breasts above the low cut of the modified sweetheart neckline, but Tucker dodged out of his hands.
“Not Christmas Eve yet,” she said turning off the water before it could get cold and handing him a fluffy blue towel and then taking one for herself. “Get dressed. Besides,” she opened the bathroom door, even though she was dripping. “We need to head back to the main house. Everyone might be worried since I went dashing off after you like I’m one of those Search and Rescue studs. Oh hi,” she said.
Colt leaned one hip against the kitchen counter making himself a cup of coffee. Laird ducked into the bedroom, pulling on the first pair of available jeans, not bothering with underwear. He was hard as a rock and wanted to get Colt out of the apartment so he could get some space and think and be alone with Tucker, but definitely not in that order.
“Besides, you got some ’splaining to do about the ring, but don’t tell Tanner why you gave it to me because it’s still officially her day until midnight.”
Colt shook his head and muttered something.
“I’m not going over there,” Laird said, sauntering out, holding his shirt but not putting it on yet. “I barely understand this shit myself.”
The Christmas Challenge Page 21