Second Hope Cowboy

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Tucker laughed harshly. “And trust me, baby, I won’t touch you again until you’re begging for me to fill you.”

  She swallowed. His eyes turned dark and watchful. He didn’t even blink as he stared. He was serious. This wasn’t going in any positive direction. And with his mood, she wasn’t surprised.

  Moving toward the door, she stopped with her hand on the knob. “I smell eggs and bacon. Now don’t disappoint Delores, be a good boy and eat all of your breakfast. Looks like we’re both going to need the energy to get by the next few weeks.”

  ****

  Tucker was still steaming later that afternoon as he stomped down to the stables, needing something to keep his mind from wandering and his dick responding every time Hope tossed her hair over her shoulder, or laughed at Dee’s jokes. Earlier as she stood over the sink scrubbing a dish, each slight movement of her bottom targeted his cock. When he’d walked into the bathroom and caught her bent over the side of the tub, polishing it, he’d thought he’d keel over. Her heart shaped ass, high and tight, was begging for his hands. She was taunting him whether she knew it or not.

  He clenched and unclenched his hands.

  She’d rattled him today with her nonsense rules. His hope waned as he realized she had every intention of him leaving when time was up. He doubted she even planned to work through things. A part of him—a very big irritated part—wanted to go back up to the house and inform her he’d changed his mind. He could sign the house over, give her what she wanted and he’d be on his way.

  So then why didn’t he stop being a pussy and do what his mind urged?

  Probably because his brain was deep in his pants at the moment.

  His cock hadn’t gone flaccid since they’d been on the porch a few hours ago and he’d mentioned the role play outfit she’d walked out of the bathroom wearing one Valentine’s Day while they were married. Man, that number had done the trick because there was no way he’d ever forget how freaking sexy she’d been in the black lace and teeny white apron.

  He’d savored every second removing the satin and lace.

  The pads of his fingers itched for exploring soft, luscious curves and he gritted his teeth. Wasn’t going to happen. Even if she didn’t want him, he wouldn’t allow himself to be the fool who slept with her to get a cold shoulder.

  He tore his hand through his hair. Hell, he’d ruffled her feathers today and it’d been his way of testing her. Finding out how dedicated she was to the next four weeks. He’d gotten his answer. She wasn’t committed.

  Why the hell had he done this to himself?

  This was torture at its most miserable level.

  She’d won the battle, but he wouldn’t allow her into his heart again.

  She was going to give him what he wanted, whether she liked it or not. She owed him answers. He needed to know why she left. Many times he’d wanted to believe she’d left him for another man, just so he could forget her—forget what they had. But he’d never fully believed it. No matter how hard he’d tried.

  He wanted answers so he could put his emotions to rest.

  He wouldn’t be a pushover.

  If she thought she was going to walk away unscathed, she was mistaken. She’d have to work on getting the house. Nothing ever came free.

  And he didn’t want her sex.

  He went into the stables and he immediately heard soft talking coming from the back stall. He followed the muffled voice and saw a headful of dark hair. “Becca?”

  The little girl turned and looked up. She had crystal blue eyes and a melt-your-heart smile. She giggled and pointed at the cat with her three kittens. “I came to see Muffin.”

  Tucker bit back a smile and tried for his sternest expression yet. “Does your father know you’re in here?”

  She shook her head, sending long waves against the stall door. The smile left her lips. “No. He fell asleep on the couch.”

  Tucker rubbed his jaw. “Little girl, you know the rules. You’re not allowed in the stables or barns unless you have an adult with you. Those are the rules for your safety.” Her bottom lip puckered and quivered. It took all he had to keep from melting and giving in.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Tuck. Can I give Muffin one last big hug?” She looked at him through lashes, proving that girls learned early how to manipulate a man into getting her way.

  “Yes, one last hug and then we’ll walk to the house and call your dad. If he wakes up and finds you gone he’s going to hit the ceiling. You don’t want him to worry like that, do you?”

  Another swing of her chin. “No.”

  “Then go on and give the cat one last pet.” When she turned and nuzzled the cat behind the ear, Tucker blew out a long breath and smiled. One day that child would be a heartbreaker.

  Petting complete, she slid her small hand into Tucker’s large callused one and his heart tugged. Hard not to think about what could have been if things had been different with Hope.

  He pushed the thoughts into the deep recesses of his mind and forbid himself to continue revisiting the past . There had to come a time when he gave up on all of the ‘what ifs’ and think about ‘what is’.

  As they strolled through the tall weeds in the field toward the house, Tucker going at a casual pace as not to rush Becca’s little feet, she looked up at him with a serious expression. “Uncle Tuck, why don’t you have any kids? Someone for me to play with. Daddy said they’d be my cousin. I’d be a nice cousin.”

  At a cross between pain and chuckling at the child’s curiosity, he decided it was best to be honest, at least appropriately for her age. She was a smart kid and he didn’t feel the need to skirt the issue. He hated when his parents had done that to him. “Once upon a time I had a chance at a family, but that opportunity slipped through my fingers. It’s important if we have something good in our life, we should do everything we can to nurture it. You know what nurture means?”

  “No.”

  “Nurture means to take care of them the best you can. To treat them special. Like you do Muffin. You feed and play with her.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Like I do my dolls? I play with them all of the time. And brush their hair. Even Daddy helps me dress them sometimes.”

  Tucker bit down on his bottom lip to contain the laughter as he imagined his oversized brother on the floor dressing a doll. He figured that’s what a father did for his kids. “Next time your daddy plays dolls with you, make sure you tell him Uncle Tuck said good job.”

  She blinked. “Maybe you can come over some time and play dolls with me. I have a real pretty one I’d let you dress and undress.”

  Up ahead he could see Hope on the porch, on her hands and knees, again, scrubbing the front door. Her shorts curved across her tight bottom in a way that made his eyeballs ache. Her firm ass was lifted high and with each move her hips swung. Jerking his attention away from the sight, he said to Becca, “If I have any luck I might have my own pretty doll to dress and undress before too long.”

  “You gonna buy one, Uncle Tuck?” Excitement filled her voice.

  “Grown men like me don’t buy dolls, Becca. If we’re lucky we find a princess that we can treat special, like you do your dolls.”

  His explanation must have suited her. She skipped along beside him until they reached the steps to the porch. She tugged her hand from his and jumped up each step. “Hi there.”

  Hope turned and her eyes widened. “Becca? Is that you?”

  “Yes, my name is Becca. How’d you know?” She giggled.

  Hope stood up, dropped the rag to the floor and bent to eye level with the little girl. “I know you.”

  “I know you, too.” Becca tugged down the hem of her shirt then swung her arms back and forth.

  “You do?” Hope smiled and Tucker swore it would compete against the strongest rays of the sun. Her hair was pulled up and half of it had fallen down around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, making her eyes brighter. The holey shirt and jean cutoffs fit her soft curves in all of the right places. D
amn, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on. She lit up this countryside like the first morning sunrise.

  “You’re Uncle Tuck’s princess, aren’t you? That’s what he said when we was walking up here.” Becca shot Tucker a mischievous grin.

  “I didn’t exactly say it like that, Becca.” He stepped forward, his gut tightening.

  “Yes, you did. You said you hoped you’d have your own doll to dress and undress.”

  Tucker groaned. He knew better to say anything in front of the child. He looked at Hope who was staring at him, her mouth open slightly. If she only knew how kissable she looked right now she’d close her mouth. “Becca, I don’t know what you’re learning at that preschool but there is such a thing as private talks.”

  “So, Uncle Tucker wants a doll to dress and undress, huh?” Hope stood up straight, tilting her chin in a way that told him he’d overstepped some invisible boundary. Yeah, he was good at that. He swallowed because there was no way to get out of this one. Best thing to do, change the subject.

  “Becca, we need to get you inside and call your daddy. He’s going to whoop your bottom for leaving without his permission.” Tucker knew Hope’s gaze was still on him but he didn’t look her way.

  “Uncle Tuck, you know daddy doesn’t believe in corpal punishmenting.”

  “Hey, little slider, it’s called corporal punishment. And if you keep walking out of the house and going down to the stables without permission, your dad’s discipline measures might just change.”

  Hope tossed him a rolling of eyes. “Yeah, who would carry out that punishment?” One brow curved, putting him on the line. He saw her point. No one could ever discipline Becca in a harsh way. She was just too dang sweet. “Becca, would you like to go inside with me and wait for your daddy? Delores was here earlier and made chocolate chip cookies. I think I have one with your name written all over it.”

  Becca slid her hand into Hope’s and Tucker swallowed the knot wedged in his throat.

  Damn. There he was again. Unlocking that prison door to all of his hurt and past. He needed a bolt lock.

  “You comin’ Uncle Tuck?” Becca asked from the doorway.

  “Yes. I’m coming.”

  Hope caught him with a narrowed expression. “Yes, Hope and Uncle Tuck have a lot to talk about on dolls and dress up.”

  He didn’t care about the repercussion—he laughed. How the hell could he not? Fact was, he got busted and Becca had no clue that’d she planted his butt in the dog house.

  Nah, he wasn’t in trouble. He knew Hope pretty well, and if the pink in her cheeks and the slight quiver of her bottom lip told him anything it was that she liked knowing he wanted to play dress up with her.

  Whether he should be grateful or not, he hadn’t lost all hope yet that his ex would soften before the month was up. He’d already seen a change in her and she’d only been here for a few hours.

  He followed them inside and they went into the kitchen, and he went to grab his phone.

  He hit the fast dial and Cash answered on the second ring. Sleep made his voice husky. “Missing something?” Tucker asked.

  “No…wait…oh shit!”

  “Yes, bro, hear that sound? That is the print press making out another father of the year award for you.” Tucker laughed.

  “She okay?” His groan rattled the line.

  “She’s fine. Hope and I are going to ply her with sugar and then send her home. That’ll be your punishment for allowing her to escape again.”

  “Damn, I should be tarred and feathered.”

  Tucker’s chest tightened. He liked to joke with his brother, but he also knew when to back off. This was one of those times. “Hey, man, give yourself a break. You’re a single dad who works his ass off every day. Becca is fine here. Catch more zzzs if you need to. In fact, I hear laughter now. That’s the sound of the kid getting high on chocolate. She’ll be good for at least another hour.”

  “I’ll be there in a while.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hope sat at the end of the table, watching Tucker and Cash drink their coffee as they chatted about the new horses. Becca had dozed in front of the TV while watching a cartoon.

  Sadness boiled inside of Hope. These were like old times and it hammered away at her strength. Tucker was laughing and thrumming his fingers on the polished table, and her heart beat to the same rhythm. She stared at his fingers, long and tanned. His hands were broad and callused—her flesh quivered remembering how they felt on her skin. What she wouldn’t give to have those hands on her again, if only there wouldn’t be consequences that’d follow.

  “Earth to Hope,” Cash’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

  She lifted her chin. Both men had their pale eyes on her, curious. “I-Im sorry…did I miss something?” They’d caught her staring at Tucker’s hands. She shot him a quick glance and one corner of his mouth lifted as if to say, “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I was just telling Tuck that it’s nice to have you both here again. Even if it’s temporary, but I’m glad.” Cash winked.

  He was a kind man. Stubborn, but kind. He’d always been good to Hope and she’d felt her heart break for him when he’d lost Rebecca. They’d been so in love.

  “Thank you, Cash. I appreciate your kind words. I bet you plan to keep Tuck busy on the land,” she said.

  “Tuck knows more about this place than I do. He’s like the first baseman who knows where the ball is going before it does. I guess I should get out of here and let you two get back to—” his gaze widened, “whatever it is that you two will be doing.” He pushed back his chair and got up, putting his hat back on his head. “By the way, Hope. You want the hens and chickens back?”

  “Wait, you have my hens and chickens?” She could practically hear the air leave Tucker’s lungs.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say they’re the same ones, after all, they have a short lifespan, but these are the sons and daughters and grandkids,” Cash said.

  “Oh, you didn’t kill my hens for Thanksgiving dinner?” She darted a glance in Tucker’s direction who was sitting quietly, slouched in the chair, his legs stretched. She could swear she saw humor in his eyes.

  Cash’s eyes narrowed. “We wouldn’t have killed those chickens. Who the hell told you—ahh.” He shook his head. “I’ll let you two hash this out. I’m getting baby girl home and into her bed. Thank you, Hope, for spoiling her with milk and cookies. I’m sure she’ll be back and you’ll regret it soon enough.” He winked.

  “Any time she wants to visit, she’s welcome. And if you need anything, please let me know.”

  Cash kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Hope.”

  Once they were gone, Hope tapped her nails against the surface of the table. “Good chicken meat, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I should have fried them up. Like you would have cared.”

  She pushed back her chair, and the legs scraped against the wood, making a screeching sound that matched the warning buzzer going off inside her head. “You’re real funny.” She got up, realizing she needed to stop the conversation before it got out of hand. She didn’t need another argument tonight. “I’m going to bed.” Seeing one brow curve, she shook her head. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

  “Didn’t think you would change your mind.” He slid his palm down his stubbled cheek and the raspy sound did fatal things to her reserve.

  This was going to be a very, very long month.

  ****

  Tucker rolled out of his bed just as the sun was rising. He looked out his window at the beauty. The reddish-pink sun as it lit the horizon was a painting fit for an artist. If only he had the talent.

  He pulled on jeans and T-shirt, then his boots and went downstairs. He needed coffee. Tons of it and maybe the caffeine would kick start his motivation. He hadn’t slept more than a few winks last night, thanks to a blonde nymph.

  Once the coffee started rumbling and the smell of liqui
d gold filled the air, he knew he’d be functioning soon.

  He went to the screen door and stared out into morning. It seemed like only yesterday he stood in this very spot, looking out with hope and dreams. Things had changed.

  The coffee maker beeped and he turned, almost running Hope over. He bumped her and she wobbled. He quickly grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” He dropped his gaze over the thin T-shirt and shorts that looked a lot like the boxers he was wearing. And then it struck him… “Hey, aren’t those my old boxers?”

  Her tongue came out to smooth across her bottom lip. “No, well, sort of.” She backed up.

  “What does sort of mean? They either are or aren’t.” He loved the way she blushed a color that matched the red apples from the tree in back.

  “It wasn’t like they were used. I took them before you wore them.” Her pert nose wrinkled.

  “But yet, they were mine. How old are they now? Five, maybe six years old? Can’t you afford a pair of shorts?” he joked.

  She shook her head and turned her back to him, fidgeting with the cups hanging from hooks under the cabinet. “Yes, I can afford shorts.”

  “I’m only teasing. I don’t mind sharing my boxers. If you’d like, I have a couple of new pairs still in the package.” She made it easy for him to get a rise.

  She turned and leaned against the counter. “Tucker, I don’t want your boxers. If you must know why I have kept them, then I’ll tell you. Do you remember when you and Cash took the trip to the rodeo in San Antonio? You were gone for three days.”

  How could he forget? He didn’t want to go and leave her in the first place, but it was business. “Yes, I remember.”

  “That first night, I couldn’t sleep a wink, which made the following day even worse. So, before I went to bed the following night, I searched through your drawers for a T-shirt. And I just happened to come across these too.” She fingered the fabric of the boxers. “I slept better that night.”