by Jillian Hart
“Cady, come look at this.” He glanced over his shoulder, not surprised at all by the beat of her riding boots approaching, as if he’d been aware of her all along. He kept his voice low and deep, full of secrets. “I can’t believe my eyes.”
“Is that Tucker?” She sidled up to him, feeling small in his presence. No man had ever quite made her feel so feminine before. Somehow she forced her gaze away from the magnetic man and down the fall of hillside, along the tidy wooden fence line marching down the gravel lane to the two-story ranch house below.
“Tucker! Tucker!” Little Owen Baker’s voice echoed across the hillside as he churned up grass on the lawn racing across it. Sierra, tall and lithe and lovely, trailed behind zipping up her winter coat as she walked. Sunshine gilded the threesome like figures in a Renaissance painting, making the ordinary moment transcendent.
“Yep.” Frank jammed his fists into his coat pocket. “He’s taken a shine to that little boy.”
“You sound pleased.”
“I am. This might lead somewhere.” Frank latched his gaze onto hers directly. There was no filter in his compelling blue irises, no guard between his heart and hers, and an electric jolt thundered through her in the sweetest, most refreshing way.
Time spun backward and she forgot about her aging hands and the lines on her face. She forgot the reasons why she would never be appealing, the excuses she’d used to protect her neglected heart over the years.
She swallowed hard, realizing seconds ticked by, moments she lost herself in his gaze. Yes, her soul agreed. This could go somewhere. Although when she found her voice to answer him, it was Tucker and Sierra she spoke of. “I think it might lead someplace very good.”
“I agree.” He held her gaze for one endless second more, an intimate moment when she felt timeless and changed. When he broke away to stare at the trio down below, a new hope lifted through her. Maybe he was interested in her, after all.
“Best get Jack saddled up.” Frank strolled into the wash of winter sunshine, looking like everything good and mighty in a man, everything she had ever dreamed of. “Guess I’ll see you on Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh.” Her bedazzled brain took a moment to shift gears. “My open house. Good. I’m glad you’re attending.”
“Me, too.” His gaze found hers again across the growing distance. His heart felt nearer to hers as the sunshine brightened around her.
A whole new possible future opened up to her. Cause me to hear Your loving kindness in the morning, for in You I do trust; cause me to know the way in which I should walk, for I lift up my soul to You. Her morning Bible verse came to mind and she smiled.
Sierra hung back as Owen clung to Tucker’s hand trustingly. The boy bounded along the gravel lane cutting between pastures, bordered by precise fencing on either side. She breathed in the fresh air carrying hints of pine forest, damp bunchgrass and horse, and felt instantly relaxed. The past handful of weeks had been anything but relaxing, so it was a welcome thing.
“Do you know what my doctor said, Tucker?” Owen skipped merrily, not taking his eyes from his hero. Goodness, it was a wonder he didn’t trip.
“What did the doc say?” Tucker, to his credit, sounded deeply interested.
“That I healed up perfect.”
“See? What did I tell you? You amazed him.”
“Yep, you were right.”
The wind carried their conversation to her as she followed behind, doing her best not to notice the dependable line of Tucker’s wide shoulders or the powerful aura he radiated. It would be a lot easier if she could go back to seeing the carefree cowboy chasing notoriety and dodging commitment. But that side of him was hard to see as he guided Owen around a clump of grass in the center of the lane before he tripped on it.
“Hey, Tucker. What happened to your cane?”
“Don’t need it anymore.” His voice alone could lull the most wary of women into trusting him. He shrugged one shoulder as he walked, slowing his long-legged pace to accommodate the little boy. “I rested just like my doctor said, and I healed up, too.”
“Oh, boy. Are you gonna go back to the rodeo?”
“As soon as I finish up my physical therapy. I’ve been training hard.” Shadows from the barn fell over the man and child as the two veered off the lane and into the shaded doorway. “Why, who do we have here? It’s Cady Winslow.”
“I’m on my way home, but I happened to get a peek at the sheep.” Cady smiled in greeting and focused on Owen. “He let me pet him and everything.”
“Really? Boy. Oh, boy!”
Sierra stepped inside the stable in time to see Owen jump up and down, clapping his hands. A cow mooed plaintively and leaned so far over the top of her gate, the wood groaned and threatened to buckle. Her big brown eyes fastened on the child. Her long pink tongue stretched out as if she were trying to catch hold of him.
“Look who is sayin’ howdy to you.” Tucker spoke low, but his voice was the only sound Sierra heard as the big man scooped her son into one arm, lifting him up so he could meet the cow at eye level. “Say hello to Buttercup.”
“Hi, Buttercup.” Her boy giggled. “She’s trying to eat me!”
“No way. That’s called a cow kiss.”
Sierra tore her gaze from the duo, doing her best to keep hold of her senses.
“Owen is looking great.” Cady hitched her designer bag higher on one slim shoulder, her gentle alto warming as she spun to watch the cow grab hold of the child’s shoelaces and chew. Owen’s giggle echoed sweetly in the rafters above. Cady’s smile widened at the sound. “It must be a relief to be safely on this side of things. He’s all right?”
“Thanks to your friend. If Doctor Stone hadn’t diagnosed him, who knows what would have happened? The hole in his heart had gone undetected all this time.” She didn’t know how a kindness like that could be repaid. She would never forget how Dr. Adam Stone had heard Owen breathing from across the diner, left his dinner and his own daughters to offer his opinion. He’d never charged her a dime for the diagnosis or his time, finding her one of the best pediatric heart surgeons in the country. “I can’t thank him enough.”
“That’s what Adam does. He likes to help people. It’s as simple as that.” Cady patted her arm, a caring gesture, walking backward toward the fall of sunshine in the doorway. “You have a fun time. You work too hard, Sierra.”
“I don’t work hard enough, considering who it’s for.” Her words must have carried because Tucker chose that moment to glance over the top of Owen’s ruffled brown hair and down the aisle. The impact of his gaze made her swallow hard, holding on to her composure. “I’m looking forward to your open house next week. On Valentine’s Day.”
“It seems fitting, since it’s a romantic little inn.” The sunshine engulfed her as gravel crunched beneath her riding boots. “Maybe you and Owen want to bring Tucker.”
“Oh, don’t give Owen any ideas.” Sierra waved goodbye as the woman sauntered out of sight. Imagine what everyone in town would think if she and Tucker went anywhere together on Valentine’s Day. She blushed at the thought. It had taken almost two full weeks for the rumors from the diner to die down.
“Buttercup, give those back.” Tucker’s good-natured laugh boomed down the breezeway, pulling her closer. He rescued the laces back from the cow. “She likes to untie shoes. Give her this treat, will you, so I can tie your shoes back up.”
“Sure thing.” Owen glowed, a picture of perfect health and happiness. He held out one hand. The cow licked his fingers before stealing the treat. It could have been a photograph with the big man kneeling before the boy in silhouette, strong and capable and kind.
Tucker’s kindness got to her. It was only gratitude she felt as he rose, the laces successfully tied, and tossed his trademark megawatt grin. Dimples bracketed his smile, making him twelve times more handsome than the law should allow.
“I hope you came prepared, Sierra.” His voice inflected her name, dropping down a full note, and th
e buttery rumble made her stomach flutter.
More feelings of gratitude, surely, she told herself. Definitely not more. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and smoothed the cowlick in her son’s hair. “I hope you don’t teach Owen too many rodeo riding secrets.”
“No, I was only going to teach him two. That’s not too many, is it?” Amusement softened the hard planes of his face.
“Maybe. Two might be too much.” It was a struggle to fashion her mouth into a straight, stern line. “Maybe you shouldn’t teach him any at all.”
“But, Mom! I gotta learn how to ride. I’m gonna mutton bust, remember?” Worry wrinkled her son’s brow.
“All right, how about one secret?” Tucker chuckled with good humor. “He deserves at least that.”
“Fine, but only if it’s a very small one.” She couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“Mom!” Owen shook his head, as if he didn’t know what was wrong with his mother. He looked sorely burdened, but not for long, as Sierra reached for his hand. Their bond was evident to anyone who could see. The little boy, so trusting, leaned against his mom’s knee, walking beside her as if he knew she would always be there for him.
Nice. She looked amazing standing in the natural light from the roof windows overhead, as wholesome as could be in a sweatshirt and wash-worn jeans. She wore her golden hair down today, cascading curls framing her oval face and bouncing onto her slim shoulders. As Tucker put one boot in front of the other, he noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes and the exhaustion she was trying to hide behind a light layer of makeup and a bright smile. He’d heard an earful in town over the past few weeks, people going out of their way to clue him in on Sierra’s life. Right or wrong, folks in town sure liked to gossip.
Or, maybe they had figured him out. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to hide his feelings as well as he’d thought. He knew she had medical bills, that she worked long hours and picked up extra shifts to make ends meet. He’d heard what she’d said to Cady, and he liked her devotion to her son. He liked her way, way too much.
“Just in time.” Frank straightened up from checking the cinch and patted the red horse on the flank. “Owen. Look who is waiting for you.”
“For me?” Owen froze in place, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Is that Jack? Is it?”
At the sound of his name, the gelding blew out a breath and swung his head around to size up the boy. The quarter horse was big and brawny, but his manner was gentle as he nickered low in his throat, stretched out his neck and lowered his head.
“He wants you to pet him, buddy.” Tucker had a tough time keeping his voice unaffected. “Go on. He won’t hurt you.”
“My gramma has a horse.” Proudly, no stranger to the breed, Owen tottered forward and held out his hand. Jack’s velvety nostrils flared as he scented the boy, then with a snort lipped the boy’s hair.
“That tickles!” Owen’s glee rang like the most precious of sounds. It was good to see him well.
“Let’s get you up in the saddle.” Tucker scooped the kid into his arms, the sweetest weight there was, and eased him onto Jack’s back.
“Mom! Look at me. I’m on Jack. Jack!” The boy looked about ready to explode with joy. “It’s really Jack, one of the best roping horses there is!”
“Jack doesn’t let just anyone ride him, but he likes you.” Tucker ignored the hitch of pain in his leg as he guided little hands to the saddle horn.
“I love Jack!” Owen clutched the saddle horn with both hands. “Mom, look how high up I am. I’m taller than Tucker.”
“I see.” Sierra laid one hand on her son’s knee, holding him in place, but she didn’t need to worry.
Tucker had ahold of the boy, too. “I can’t ride yet, the doc hasn’t given me the clearance, so my dad is going to take you around the arena. What do you think of that?”
“Sure! Yeah.” Owen twisted around to size up Frank Granger. “Are you gonna teach me to talk to animals, too?”
“Well, now, we’ll see.” Frank moseyed over to take the reins. “I just might be able to teach you a thing or two.”
“All right!” Owen bounced in the saddle, as if excited beyond measure.
Tucker grinned. Easy to remember sitting on the back of a horse for the first time. He’d been two years old and it was a moment that had seared itself in his memory. The brisk spring wind in his face, the live, thrilling feeling of the horse shifting beneath him and the security of Dad’s strong arms around him, holding him safe. He’d felt as if no force in the world could hurt him as long as Frank Granger was there.
It was still easy to feel that way. Dad talked with the little boy, who chattered right back. Owen gazed up with awe at the man mounting up and settling in the saddle behind him. Frank took the time to explain the reins and how to hold them and Owen took the leather straps with reverence.
“Now hold on,” Dad advised with a wink, and Jack stepped forward down the aisle with a steady gait, as if he knew full well the precious cargo he carried in that saddle.
The little boy’s delight was the happiest sound Tucker had heard in a long time. The joyful notes dug deep into him, in places he didn’t know he had, touching parts of his spirit he’d rather not acknowledge. Just as he didn’t want to examine what he felt for the woman who watched the horse and riders leave her sight as if her world were ending.
Sierra. He did not know what he was going to do about his feelings for her. Ignoring them would probably be the best choice, but his accident had changed him. He was no longer the man he used to be, so he didn’t shove aside the awareness that came to life in those hidden chambers of his heart. He didn’t push her away.
He held out his hand, unafraid. “Come with me,” he said.
Chapter Eight
Sierra stared at his outstretched hand and swallowed past the lump in her throat. It had been weeks since she’d last seen Tucker in the diner, certainly time enough for the feelings he’d unearthed to settle and cool. But the instant she slipped her palm against his and felt his fingers lace with hers, gentle emotions tugged to life within her. It was as if she and Tucker had never been apart.
Perhaps this was what happened whenever two people went through something emotional together. A tie was forged that could not be broken. The closeness she’d felt and the gratitude for his kindness the morning of Owen’s surgery had forever changed things between them. But that was in the past, it had been a moment in time and nothing more. Their paths in life would always be separate. She knew that, too.
“Judging by those squeals of glee, Owen is getting a kick out of riding Jack.” Tucker’s easygoing manner matched his casual grin. He strolled beside her, doing his best to hide the hitch in his stride. Probably too macho to let any weakness show.
She shook her head, focused on the clean-swept concrete floor stretching before her and the echoing lilt of her son’s laughter. “He hardly lets the toy horse you gave him out of his sight. It has to be in the same room with him. As for Slayer, I convinced him to leave the stuffed animal in the car, otherwise he carries it everywhere.”
“I’m glad Slayer was such a hit.”
“Slayer has given Owen a lot of comfort, and I’m grateful to him.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to let Tucker know how much his thoughtfulness meant to her, because there was always the chance her feelings would show through too honestly. Tucker was the kind of man who was probably used to women throwing themselves at him right and left. She did not want him to think she was starting to admire him, too.
“Slayer is great that way,” Tucker said. “Truth is, I’m envious. I didn’t get a stuffed toy when I was in the hospital.” Dimples deepened, as if to hide the genuine, unspoken emotions beneath.
“Poor you.” She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The man had charm to spare.
“Yep, poor me.” He chuckled, as if he didn’t mean a word of it and led the way into the arena. “You and Owen should stay for supper. Mrs. Gunderson did a little investigative work and
found out Owen’s favorite homemade meal.”
“Macaroni and cheese, and barbecued hot dogs?”
“That’s an affirmative.”
“I can’t believe you went to so much trouble for Owen.”
“Truth is, it wasn’t only for him.” The dimples faded along with his grin, but the sincere emotions stayed as he led the way down the aisle. “I can’t imagine how hard these last few weeks have been for you.”
“For me? I’m not the one recovering from surgery.” The arena spread out before her, a huge domed ring with fresh loam at her feet and sunshine streaming through skylights above. Owen had control of the reins, talking excitedly to Frank, who held him safely in the saddle. Oh, it was good to see her child happy. “Any other mother would have done as much. In fact, other moms might have done a better job.”
“Not true. I know this for a fact.” He leaned against the railing with his forearms, keeping her hand linked with his. His sadness was palpable. “Not all moms rise to the challenge.”
His hadn’t—she remembered the story well. Everyone in town knew how Lainie Granger had left her family without warning to live with a man in Jackson. A terrible scandal at the time, and painful for the Granger family. Sierra wished she knew what to say.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I got over it. My brother and sisters have made their peace, too. It’s my dad I worry about.” He gestured toward the ring where his father sat straight and mighty in the saddle, stronger for the kindness he showed the small child in his care. Tucker’s brows furrowed. “It hurt him deep.”
“He’s never remarried. Much to the sadness of the single ladies in this town. I hear them talking about him in the diner. It’s hard not to overhear.”
“One of those ladies wouldn’t happen to be Cady Winslow, would it?” That thought put the smile back on his face.
“Actually, no. I’ve never heard her gush on about him the way Sandi Walters does. Or Arlene Miller. She’s the worst. You would think a movie star strolled into the diner whenever she sees Frank walking in the door.” She tilted her head to one side, lost in thought, rich blond hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Although, come to think of it, I may have caught a longing look a few times from Cady. I’ll have to pay better attention.”