His Convenient Husband

by J. L. Langley

  “Give me a break. We both know why you ran off. But don’t worry, I promise not to make a scene. I’m not the same idiot teenager.” Micah sighed and looked at Tucker. “Your granddad wants to see you, but you don’t have to stay. I don’t need you here to spend your money. I can make the decisions and run them by Jeff and AJ.”

  Ah, Tucker was starting to see the problem. Micah was used to being the go-to guy. He’d gotten accustomed to running the ranch, and why not? Dad and AJ hated anything to do with the business side of things, they were more than happy to stay outside with the livestock. “You think I’m just going to come in and take over.”

  “Aren’t you? That’s what you always do. Hell, you wouldn’t even let me drive my own damn truck home. That sure seems like taking over to me.”

  A growl escaped before Tucker could hold it back. “We’ve been over that. You need the rest. I’ll take you back to get your truck in a few days. Now will you quit being such a pain in the ass and tell me what ideas you have?” He tried to focus on the passing scenery, but it was no use, he was too aware of the sulky, pissed-off man next to him. His hands flexed on the steering wheel, white-knuckling for a second.

  Micah was quiet for several moments. He faced forward again and closed his eyes. “We need to increase our herd size, and AJ and I talked about adding a breeding program. So instead of just the feeding and growing outfit, we can sell breeding stock. We have some excellent bulls, but we’d need more.” Apparently, he’d given it some thought. Developing a breeding herd would take a lot of capital, but it had the potential to make more too.

  Tucker nearly sighed in relief. Micah was going to cooperate, at least for a little bit. “What kind of herd?”

  “Commercial. We wanna mess with cross-breeding.”

  The Bar D had always run longhorns. “What other breeds?”

  Without turning his head, Micah shrugged and yawned. “Don’t know yet. We’ve been too busy to even discuss it.”

  Tucker frowned. He’d noticed how tired Micah was, but no time to discuss the ranch’s future? From what Tucker could tell, Micah did nothing but worry about the ranch. Not many twenty-two-year-old men ended up with ulcers. The doctor seemed to think it had a lot to do with Micah’s anti-inflammatory use. Which made Tucker suspect Micah was working too hard. Sure, ranch work was tough, but the kid needed someone to take care of him. Tucker was going to have to jump his dad’s and AJ’s asses when he got home. They should be taking care of Micah better.

  Slowing the truck, Tucker made a left-hand turn. “We’ll discuss it tonight then. We’re here.”

  As gravel crunched under the truck tires, Micah opened his eyes and sat up. A slow, barely perceptible grin flitted across his face.

  Tucker grinned too, then cut his gaze back to the front. He drove through the open gate of rough-cut lumber with a long piece going over the top that read The Bar D, and swallowed hard. He tried to tamp down the case of nerves that suddenly appeared. He’d ridden through this gate hundreds of times. What was so different now? Why did it feel like his whole life was about to be turned upside down and inside out? Getting things settled and going back to Dallas was a must. He was losing his mind.

  “What if your idiotic plan doesn’t work? We’re both guys, and Texans aren’t too keen on that. Hell, California can’t even get their shit together enough to do what’s legally and morally right in regards to gay marriage.”

  Tucker let the insult slide. “It will work. I talked to the lawyer. The way the will was written, the marriage doesn’t have to be legal in Texas, just somewhere. It’s legal in a few U.S. states and Canada, so we’re good.”

  “I thought your lawyer hadn’t read it yet.” Frowning, Micah turned in his seat.

  “She just looked over the marriage part and said even a civil union or gay marriage would fulfill the conditions. When she finds anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  “And what about ranch decisions?”

  “Yes, I promise I will keep you in the loop and run all ranch decisions by you.” It wasn’t a big lie. Tucker would keep Micah in the loop as long as it wasn’t going to stress Micah out.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.” Tucker kept his eyes forward, but sensed the ease of tension from Micah. If Tucker had known a promise to keep him informed would work, he’d have tried that earlier. Tucker’s lawyer had said she was fairly certain the will could be contested, but Tucker had decided to go this route first. Micah would not want them to contest the will because of what happened with his own family. If it hadn’t been for Juan… Tucker shivered. He didn’t even want to think about that.

  There was also the concern that if Tucker fought the will it would draw attention toward it and maybe give Duncan ideas. Duncan might contest it anyway, but for now Tucker was going to try to get things taken care of through a marriage of convenience. Yeah right. Who are you kidding? That isn’t the only reason you wanted to marry him. He was a selfish bastard and wanted more control over Micah’s life. Tucker had no clue what to do with Micah once they went back to their daily lives, but Tucker was going to take care of Micah in the meantime. Tucker would let Micah go when the time came…maybe. No, he would, he had to. He knew damned well there was no such thing as a fairy-tale happily ever after. If he stayed, he’d be tempted to try to make their marriage real, and when it finally ended…he couldn’t do that to Micah.

  “¡Hijo de la chingada!”

  Tucker smiled at the Spanish swear. Micah had always cussed in Spanish. As a kid, he’d gotten away with it most of the time, unless Juan was within earshot. “What are you swearing about?”

  “That.” Micah pointed to a silver Cadillac Escalade. The license plate read DUNCAN.

  It was like someone had poured ice water down Tucker’s back. So help him if that son of a bitch was upsetting his dad…

  Micah began muttering in Spanish. Tucker caught the words “cabrón” and “pendejo” and figured whatever Micah was saying wasn’t very nice. Tucker’s only regret was not knowing enough Spanish to join in.

  “Fuck me.” Tucker pulled into the drive behind his dad’s beat-up old Chevy and put his car in park. “Why is that fucking lowlife here?”

  “I told you Ferguson asked for him, but I didn’t really think he’d come.” Micah’s voice had a growly quality to it that made Tucker look at him more closely. It was sexy and violent at the same time. Or maybe it was sexy because it was so violent sounding. At any rate, it didn’t sound like Micah.

  Tucker hadn’t thought Duncan would come either. He was even more puzzled over why his granddad would want to see Duncan. Dying apparently made a man try to make amends even when it wasn’t his fault. “Think he brought the bitch with him?” If his egg donor was here, Tucker was going to throw her ass off the property personally. Granddad sure as hell hadn’t asked to see her.

  “I don’t know.” Micah reached for the door handle. “I gotta go check on Dad.”

  Catching Micah’s arm before he opened the door, Tucker wondered if Micah even realized he’d called Tucker’s dad “Dad”. “Wait, killer. Your seat belt is still on.”

  Micah moved to unlatch his belt, but Tucker didn’t let go of his arm. As badly as Tucker would love to see Duncan get his ass kicked, he wasn’t about to let Micah do it. In fact, Micah shouldn’t be getting this upset. It wasn’t good for him. He was supposed to be taking it easy.

  Tucker frowned. “Micah, calm down.” He grabbed the marriage license off the dash and held it up, before putting it in the center console. “Remember this? It’s our ace in the hole. So stop worrying. Duncan can’t get into the computer, can he?”

  “Only AJ and I know the password.” Unhooking his seat belt, Micah shook his head and turned his body toward Tucker. Micah took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm himself. “Not a chance in hell would AJ give that pendejo the password.”

  “Good. Relax. We’ll let him visit with Granddad for a few hours and send him on his way.” Tucker’s gaze darted past Micah for
a second, spotting AJ, his dad and Juan coming their way. One side of Tucker’s mouth hitched up and an odd feeling swamped him. It took him a second, but he finally realized what it was. It was contentment. God, it was good to be home.

  He glanced back at Micah, noting once again the dark circles under his eyes. Tucker’s chest tightened. No way was he letting Duncan stay. Micah didn’t need the stress. “Come here, baby.”

  Micah’s brows scrunched together and he glared at Tucker. “What did you call me?”

  Tucker got an insane urge to kiss that glare away. He shouldn’t. It would only complicate things. Fuck that, he wanted and he was going to have. He leaned forward and touched Micah under the chin to urge him closer. As he slanted his mouth over Micah’s in an easy caress, he tried not to knock Micah’s glasses off.

  A sound caught somewhere between a protest and a plea left Micah’s throat before he finally kissed Tucker back. Micah reached for his glasses with one hand and clenched and unclenched the other in the fabric of Tucker’s shirt.

  Tucker wanted the kiss to last, yet at the same time he knew he shouldn’t. This could become an obsession. He couldn’t afford to get addicted to Micah’s kisses. Micah may be old enough now, but their worlds moved in different directions. It was already going to tear a piece of Tucker’s heart out when he had to leave The Bar D again and go back to Dallas. And something told him it was going to hurt a lot worse this time than it did the first. Damn Micah. Why did he have to be so tempting?

  Tucker pulled back, hoping Micah would think the kiss was for their audience’s benefit.

  “What in the holy hell do you think you’re—?”

  “Shh…” Tucker dipped his head a little, indicating the others.

  His family had moved toward them, and now on the porch was a man in an expensive-looking gray suit. Duncan. Tucker hadn’t remembered him looking that much like Dad, but then Tucker had been four years old the last time he saw Duncan. There was no denying Duncan was Jeff’s older brother. It made Tucker’s blood boil.

  The passenger side door opened. “Well lookie here, the prodigal son has returned.” Juan smiled. “Welcome back, young’un.”

  “And he brought Tucker,” AJ said in a surprised whisper. “Well, I’ll be damned. Hi there, big brother.”

  “Juan was talking about Tucker, not Micah.” Dad laughed. Leaning down, he caught Tucker’s gaze. “Get out here, boy!”

  After taking off his seat belt, Tucker opened his own door and smiled so big his face hurt. By the time he made it around the car, AJ and Juan had gathered around Micah, fussing over him.

  Micah brushed them off, telling them he was fine.

  Dad met Tucker in front of the car and squeezed him so tight he couldn’t breathe. He stepped back and studied his father. Dad looked older. There was more gray in his hair and more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but he looked good. He looked like home. Tucker hugged him again. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Glad you’re home, son. You take care of our boy?” Dad pulled back, his focus cutting to where AJ and Juan stood with Micah.

  Micah caught Tucker’s gaze and his eyes fairly sparkled with happiness for a brief moment, then he looked away and said something to AJ.

  Nodding, Tucker smiled. “I’ve tried. He’s been fighting me the whole way though.”

  AJ laughed. “Sounds like him.” He patted Micah on the back before striding forward and grabbing Tucker in a big ole bear hug and lifting him off the ground. “Glad you’re back. I should’ve sent the brat after you sooner.”

  “Besa mi culo.” Micah grinned at AJ.

  “You should’ve called me sooner.” Tucker frowned, but it was lost on AJ who was flipping Micah off.

  “You kiss my ass, brat.” AJ looked back at Tucker and the laughter and fun left his eyes. “Did you see who’s here?”

  Tucker’s attention zeroed in on the porch and met Duncan’s gaze. “Yeah. Do we need to kick his ass out?”

  “I’d love to, but Granddaddy wants him here.”

  Duncan came down the porch steps, heading their way with his chin held high. He looked so much like Tucker’s dad, Tucker had to remind himself what a bastard the man was. When Duncan reached them, he stepped up and held out his hand to Tucker. “So you’ve decided to come home. Or did the”—his gaze raked over Micah and a snarl appeared on his lips—“little freeloader drag you back?”

  “And by freeloader I assume you are referring to my husband.” Tucker stared right at Duncan, watching the shock play over his face. Revulsion quickly followed the shock, which set Tucker’s teeth on edge even more. “Come on. Call him a freeloader again. I dare you.”

  Chapter Five

  Tucker sat on the back porch rail drinking his whiskey and smoking a Latin Gold he’d found in the humidor in the office. Granddad had always had good taste in cigars. Tucker grinned, remembering the first time he’d gotten into his granddaddy’s cigars. He’d just turned sixteen and thought he was hot shit. Dad had been livid, but Granddad had just taken it in stride, offering Tucker one after another. They’d sat out on the porch smoking and talking until Tucker had gotten so lightheaded he’d thrown up. After that, he hadn’t touched another cigar. Well, not until he’d moved to Dallas anyway.

  He took a puff from the cigar and looked up at the full moon. Damn, he was gonna miss the old man. It had hurt to see him lying in bed looking so frail this afternoon. Tucker should’ve come home more often. It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat again. From now on, he was visiting home every month, at least for a weekend.

  Taking a drink, he let the whiskey slide down his throat and gazed out at the back pasture. His family wasn’t all he missed. He missed the country. The fast pace of the business world was exciting, but there was just nothing like a spring night out here far from civilization. It was beautiful. There were so many stars. He’d forgotten how many. When was the last time he’d taken time to look at the stars? He’d been stuck in his high-rise office working on one project or another plenty of times after the sunlight faded, but the city lights made the stars disappear. Buildings overpowered the Dallas horizon. The big city had its own appeal, but out here was pure magic. The sky looked so endless.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” a soft voice asked.

  Tucker started, not realizing he had company, but immediately grinned as recognition set in. He hadn’t seen Micah but once since they arrived this afternoon. After they’d gotten here, Tucker had gone straight up to see his grandfather. Then after his visit he’d buried himself in the office going over the bills. Micah had come in and shown him some stuff on the computer and they’d formed a sort of truce, a united front against Duncan. They had to make their marriage look real to outsiders or it’d be much easier to contest.

  Taking a puff from his cigar, Tucker turned his head toward Micah and wished he hadn’t.

  Micah stood at the top of the back steps, a soft grin on his face. The smart little glasses he’d worn during his stay in Dallas were gone. He’d looked adorable in them, but now, without them, he was stunning. Tucker had forgotten how big his eyes were. Those glasses had concealed a lot. Micah’s usual hat-covered black hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. The red short-sleeved polo shirt pulled tightly across a slim but nicely shaped chest, and even showed off toned biceps. He was still smaller than Tucker, but Micah didn’t look like a kid any longer. A pair of tight jeans emphasized the leg muscles he’d earned from years in the saddle, and his feet were bare.

  Tucker’s breath caught. The memory of the last time he’d seen Micah bare footed, when Tucker had left The Bar D after their one night together, came to mind. God, he’d felt like such a cruel son of a bitch.

  Micah settled beside him, leaning his tanned forearms on the rail. He stood so close the heat of his body warmed Tucker’s left arm.

  “Yeah, I’ve missed it. There aren’t as many stars in the city.” Taking a drink of his whiskey, Tucker glanced back out at the deep endless sky. The soft spring breeze ruffled hi
s hair and blew the vanilla-scented smoke around him. A someone is staring at you feeling niggled at him, but he didn’t look to confirm it. Part of him wanted Micah to be looking, which made Tucker want to kick his own ass. He’d ruined his chances with Micah long ago. Damn if being back here didn’t have Tucker way off balance, or maybe it was the three whiskeys he’d had in the last hour. At any rate, he had to keep reminding himself he’d burned his bridges.

  “Is it all you’ve missed?”

  Apprehension trickled over Tucker, but he pushed it away. It may never be like it was before, but they could at least get along. “No, it’s not all I’ve missed. I miss my family and working on the ranch. I miss—” You. Tucker’s chest ached at the realization. He missed the easy friendship he and Micah had had before Tucker had messed it up with that one night. It seemed wrong to regret such a wonderful, profound night, but he did.

  Micah extracted the cigar from Tucker’s fingers and took a puff.

  It was such an intimate gesture Tucker found himself staring. “I—I miss the quiet.” He watched Micah’s lips pucker as he blew out the smoke, and unbidden the image of those sweet lips kissing up his body sprang to mind. Tucker shook his head and retrieved his cigar from Micah. “Since when do you smoke?”

  “I don’t usually.” Micah shrugged. “Why don’t you come home more often? Is it because of me? I’d hate to think that—” Micah’s voice lowered, almost quivering. “I don’t want you to stay away from your family because of me.”

  Damn. A pang of guilt slapped Tucker in the gut. He did stay away because of Micah, but not for the reasons Micah thought. “It’s not you.” The lie slipped out of his mouth so easily, Tucker almost believed it himself. “Work keeps me busy. There are always deals to make and companies to sell.” Tucker took a puff of his cigar, and it occurred to him that Micah’s lips had just rested where his were. Micah’s lips tasted as sweet as they had four years ago. Did Micah have more practice now? Tucker shouldn’t care, but he didn’t like the idea of Micah being with anyone else. He’d been Micah’s first, but Tucker had no right to expect to be Micah’s only.