His Country Girl

by Jillian Hart

  Perhaps not just Owen’s heart. Maybe Sierra’s, too. His grip tightened on the wheel as he steered through the storm. She hadn’t been able to disguise one poignant look of longing, as if for the sweetest of wishes, and he couldn’t get that picture out of his head. Her honest beauty, her loving spirit, her gentle soul made everything in his world small by comparison.

  The rodeo—that had never been anything but passing time, a way to escape the emotional ties that always made him uncomfortable. Emotional ties still made him uneasy, but he was learning to open his heart. He wanted to be for her what his dad had been for him. Solid and dependable, like a fixed mark that would not move, change or break. He wanted to give her so many things, to take care of her, to solve her every problem and to stand between her and any hardship.

  If only she would let him.

  He slowed at a crossroads since visibility was poor. No one was coming so he continued on. Sierra had grown up at the far end of that road, where her parents still lived. As the wind gusted against the side of the truck, he remembered that petite, shy little girl with the golden braids and a book always in hand.

  She had grown up, matured and learned how to put him in his place—he would never dare tug on her braids now—but she was not so different. Her home was full of books filed on shelves, books stacked on tables, even piled by Owen’s bed. Tucker pushed his sadness aside. He was still that same school-age boy with a heart that had never loved another.

  Only her.

  It may have taken him nearly twenty years to figure it out, but he finally got it.

  The truck carried him past Mr. Green’s driveway, the headlights illuminating briefly a For Sale sign tacked to a fence post. He wondered how Cotton was faring, now that he was safely home. Owen sure had a grand time riding him. Maybe he would have to drop by and visit the sheep and talk with Mr. Green. Maybe Sierra simply needed proof of his intentions. She had to know he was a man who stuck to his course once he made a commitment.

  The lights of home shone through the storm as he drove up the hill, and a glowing sense of peace filled him. Home. No word had ever sounded as good. He pulled into the garage, already looking forward to seeing his dad. Maybe they’d share a root beer in front of the television, watch a sports show, an old movie or the news. It sounded good. Time rolled by, ticking away like a bomb, and he didn’t want to miss any more time with his dad and those he loved.

  He shook the flakes off his coat and stomped the snow off his boots at the back door. The moment he stepped inside, warmth hit him, both physical and emotional. He recalled being a little boy stomping into the mudroom, kicking off his boots in a hurry to get a freshly baked cookie from Aunt Opal. He remembered being a teenager, tossing schoolbooks onto the table in a hurry to take Jack out for a run. So many good times—his sisters’ chatter, Dad’s laughter, Justin’s banter, the holidays and celebrations and losses that had drawn them all closer together.

  “Hi there, son.” Frank looked up from the table, a telephone book open to the yellow pages in front of him, the cordless phone in one hand. “Were you out with Sierra and Owen?”

  “We stayed in, actually. I cooked them dinner.” He ambled across the floor in his stocking feet and headed for the fridge.

  “A working mom ought to like that quite a bit.” Frank smiled. The phone book closed with a snap. “Did she like her flowers?”

  “She didn’t toss me out on my ear for sending them to her.” Humor came easier. He wasn’t ready to talk about his plans just yet. Besides, he still had a few things to figure out. He took two cans from the refrigerator shelf and closed the door. “Any word from Cady?”

  “She liked her roses.” Dad pushed back his chair and stood. “I made a reservation at the steak house in Sunshine we like so well.”

  “So, she said yes. A shocker. I don’t know what she was thinking.”

  “A lapse in her good judgment, no doubt.” With a chuckle, Frank sank the phone into its holder. “Now I have to actually take her out. I’m twisted up in knots over this date. I don’t know how you kids do it.”

  “You get numb to the agony of dating after a while.” His dad could joke, and so could he. He understood what his father was sidestepping. The risk that went along with wanting to give a woman your heart was a perilous one. One he was still smarting from. He held out a can. “We can forget our troubles watching TV.”

  “Good plan, son.” Dad popped the top on his root beer. “Your cousin called a few minutes ago.”

  “Sean? Is he coming out to lend a hand?” Tucker led the way into the living room.

  “Yep. He flies in on Friday. I thought you could swing by the airport and pick him up.”

  “Sure. I’ll be in Sunshine anyway for my doctor’s appointment.” The day of truth. Would he be able to return to riding, or would it be another two weeks of physical therapy staying right here, where he could work on changing Sierra’s mind?

  Autumn looked up from the couch, a bridal magazine on her lap and a stack piled on the coffee table in front of her. “Hey. How did things go with Sierra?”

  “Hard to say. She’s still talking to me, so that’s a good sign.” She hadn’t closed the door completely on their relationship. He would never forget the pure caring in her gaze as she’d rejected him. He loved her. It was as simple as that. He thought there might be a chance she loved him, too. “How about you and Ford?”

  “Fantastic. He took me to Cady’s inn for dinner. Everyone must have had the same idea, because the place was packed. Folks were waiting in the lobby for almost two hours.” She glanced at a wedding dress on a glossy page, shrugged and closed the magazine. “We saw Rori and Justin in the dining room. They are spending the night there. I hear the rooms are luxuriously comfortable and country gorgeous. Rori couldn’t stop raving. I couldn’t believe how good the food was. Cady must have brought in a renowned chef from somewhere. Take Sierra there for your next date. She will adore it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He dropped into one of the chairs.

  “Great. Thanks for mentioning that.” Dad looked unusually pale as he sank into the sectional. “If that’s the kind of food she’s used to, I need to cancel my reservation.”

  “Don’t,” Autumn advised. “I know Cady well enough. She might be city raised, but she’s a country girl at heart.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Dad didn’t sound so sure about it.

  Poor Dad. Tucker knew just how he felt. The phone sang out an electronic tune and he hopped to his feet. Could be a chance Sierra had mulled things over and wanted to change the answer she’d given him. “I’ll get it.”

  It was Cheyenne’s number on the caller ID. He swallowed back disappointment and plucked up the cordless. “Howdy.”

  “Tucker? Is Autumn there?” Cheyenne sounded strained, as if on the verge of tears. A sniffle confirmed it.

  “Sure. What’s wrong?” He would stop the world from turning if it would protect his sisters.

  “Can I please talk to her?” A sob tore her words apart.

  His heart, too. His younger sister was hurting. Before he could call out, Autumn sauntered into the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” Concern knit her face.

  He held the receiver out to her. “Cheyenne is crying. That can’t be good on Valentine’s Day.”

  “No, it can’t.” Sadly, she took the phone, her voice dropping as she walked in the direction of the family room. “What happened, Cheye?”

  Heartbreak. That was the result when love didn’t work out, when romance didn’t turn into a happily-ever-after. Not ready to give up on Sierra, Tucker retraced his steps. Dad had clicked on the television and a sitcom released canned laughter into the room.

  “Is Cheyenne okay?” Dad asked.

  “I don’t know.” Tucker dropped into his chair, wondering about Sierra. Was she missing him, too?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So, how is your romance going along?” Happy anticipation wreathed Mrs. Tipple’s lovely face. T
he elderly lady plopped a sugar cube into her tea. “I heard Tucker had flowers delivered for Valentine’s Day.”

  “No comment.” Sierra slipped the generous slice of blueberry cheesecake into the center of the table. The door opened, letting in a rush of cool air and damp. Rain fell steadily, washing away the last of the snow on the ground. Fitting, she decided, since she wanted to forget Valentine’s Day. Tightness bunched in her throat as she slid four dessert plates onto the table along with four spoons. “Do you ladies need anything else?”

  “Just an answer, young lady.” Mrs. Tipple twinkled. She was trouble through and through—the best kind of trouble.

  “Yes, we’re dying to know,” Mrs. Plum chimed in. “It’s been a while since any of us have been young and in love.”

  “Speak for yourself, Vera.” Mrs. Parnell chuckled. “I’m still in love with my husband.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot. Me, too.” Mrs. Plum dissolved into laughter. “Forgive me. I meant dating. Being courted by a man is so, so sweet.”

  “Not nearly as sweet as a lifetime spent happily as his wife,” Mrs. Parnell pointed out.

  Too sweet. Sierra adored these elderly women. “I’m going to cut off the tea. You ladies have had way too much.”

  “Good idea, dear,” Mrs. Tipple agreed.

  With a smile, Sierra padded away, leaving behind her a rise of merry giggles. The door whooshed open and she skidded to a halt in the middle of the aisle.

  Tucker. He’d never looked so formidable. He filled the doorway with his remarkable shoulders and impressive physique. Dark hair windswept, blue eyes striking, expression determined, he radiated authority and confidence and masculinity. He was every wish she could not want and every dream she could not pray for.

  “Do you have a minute?” The notes of his familiar baritone struck like a hammer. Tension corded his neck and bunched along his muscled jaw.

  “Of course. Grab a table.” She gestured to the row of empty booths. The lunch crowd wasn’t exactly bustling these days. Her tables were fine for now, their orders taken and meals delivered.

  Why was he here? She walked after him, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking slightly with her gait. Why would he interrupt her in the middle of the day? There was only one reason she could think of. Her toe stubbed the floor, pitching her forward. Off balance, she righted herself, blushing, hoping no one had noticed, especially Tucker. He’d come to tell her good-bye. That’s why he was here. Her knees trembled as she slid onto a booth cushion.

  “You look good.” Not a trace of humor highlighted his face. She had never seen him this serious, not even on the morning of Tucker’s surgery.

  “Thanks. You, too.” It was a good thing she’d stood firm. She didn’t doubt he cared for her and she knew he cared a great deal for Owen, but that would not stop him from leaving. With his next breath he would tell her he was heading out for Dallas or Tulsa or wherever. It’s been nice knowing you, he’d say and she couldn’t appear crushed. She’d turned him down. She couldn’t let him know what he meant to her.

  “The doctor gave me a clean bill of health.” The tension didn’t slip off his stoney features. A note of hardness rang in his voice. “I’m cleared to ride again. I’ve got a little more strengthening I need to do before I can compete, but I’m almost there. I’m fully recovered.”

  “Congratulations.” She held her chin high, truly glad for him. “Riding makes you happy.”

  “A lot of things do.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick fold of papers. He smoothed the creases out of them with deliberate care. “Spending time at home has been good for me. I always dash in and race back to the airport, too busy to sink into life here. This injury forced me do it. I think I was always in a hurry because I was afraid if I wasn’t, it would be too tough to leave.”

  “You are close to your family, especially your dad.” She understood that. She felt the same way about hers. If love for his family wasn’t enough to hold him here, then his simple affection for her wouldn’t be nearly enough. She had to accept it, regardless of how much it hurt. “Of course it will be hard to leave them.”

  “It will be hard to leave.” He spread the papers on the table. “Look what I have.”

  “Is it a legal document?” A furrow dug into her forehead.

  “A purchase and sale agreement.” He turned the pages around for her to easily read them. “The Greens are retiring and I’m buying their ranch, livestock and all.”

  “Even Cotton?”

  “He’s my number one animal. I plan to take extra special care of him.” It was only the start of his plans, but the rest was up to her. He straightened his spine, ignored the jackhammer force of his pulse and hoped his vulnerabilities were well hidden. “I’ll keep him for Owen to ride anytime.”

  “That’s nice of you, Tucker.” Her peaceful smile held no trace of sorrow that he was leaving and not a hint that she might accept him if he were to ask. She glanced at the agreement and nudged it toward him. “Frank must be ecstatic. Is your family going to look after the land and livestock for you?”

  “I imagine they will lend a hand when it’s needed.” He took a deep breath, knowing he had to play this cool, keep defenses up around his heart just enough so that when she rejected him, the pain wouldn’t show. It was a risk to ask her like this, but he wanted to do it where Owen wouldn’t overhear. He braced himself for the worst and forged ahead. “Whether I leave town or not depends on you.”

  “On me?” She tilted her head to one side. Her bangs swept her puzzled forehead. She couldn’t have looked more confused. “I don’t understand.”

  Okay, that is not a good sign. He figured she might have put the pieces together by now. He lowered his voice so the entire diner wouldn’t hear. “You said Owen needs security. Well, this is as secure as it gets. I’m putting down roots and I’m prepared to keep any promise you let me make.”

  Her jaw slid open. Her pretty rosebud mouth shaped into an O. She didn’t move. Maybe she wasn’t prepared for him to make any promises. That cut deep, but he didn’t let it show. He hoped he’d hidden the wince of pain well enough from her view. She had no idea what she meant to him. Not a clue. Maybe he should tell her.

  “I’m ready to settle down. I’ve signed on the dotted line and forked over no small amount of earnest money. The sale is final at the end of the month.” He had to say the words that frightened him most, but he was tough and not even something as serious and potentially dangerous as committed love could scare him. Just please don’t hurt me, he begged silently. “I love you, Sierra. I want to court you, marry you, grow old with you. Do you feel the same?”

  Her gray eyes darkened like a sky before a storm, so poignant with silent sadness. He saw her answer in the hitch of her breath and the bow of her head. She traced the edge of the Formica tabletop with her forefinger, thinking it over—not his offer, but how to reject him.

  “Sierra!” Nate Cannon, the local veterinarian, held up his cup, unaware of what was going on. “Can I get a refill to go?”

  “Sure thing.” Stilted, she stumbled out of the booth. True apology was spelled on her face. “Tucker, I’ll be right back.”

  “Fine.” He didn’t mind waiting. The reprieve would give him time to prepare for the final blow. Being rejected by Sierra wasn’t nearly as painful as being in love with her. She sailed down the aisle, unaware what she was doing to him. He folded up the agreement and shoved it back into his pocket. His phone rang, so he answered it.

  “Are you going to be much longer?” Sean asked, anxious to get settled in at the ranch. “I don’t mind waiting in the truck, but I’m starting to get hungry.”

  “I need another minute,” he told his cousin and hung up. He would need more than a minute to recover—if recovering from losing Sierra was even possible.

  She moved like music with a soft lilt and cadence of her own as she poured a cup for Nate, grabbed two plates from the kitchen and sashayed down the aisle. She handed out the meals, gave Nat
e his coffee and finally paced back to Tucker reluctantly. Everything in him stilled as she slipped into the booth.

  “I need more stability for Owen than you can give, Tucker.” Gently spoken, with a request for forgiveness soft in her voice.

  Her rejection hit him hard. Nothing could soften it. Air whooshed out of his lungs. Pain cracked through him like bones breaking. He’d known her answer would be no. Whatever hopes had driven him in here plummeted to the floor and shattered. Left with the pieces, he wasn’t sure what to do now. “What more do you want?”

  “You’ve been in our lives less than two months. You waltz in and right now you’re ready to waltz out. Who is to say your feelings won’t be the same?” She pitched her voice low, as the diner silenced. Perhaps she was aware of several patrons leaning in their direction, appearing not to be listening, although they were. She paused to glance around. Then, as if there was nothing else to be done, she finished it. “You could charm your way into a romance with me and right back out again. Relationships come with no guarantee, but I have to be cautious. Owen has had a lot of promises broken.”

  “And so have you.”

  She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. That was the part he didn’t know how to fix. How to make her see his love for her. She was a country girl, not someone who would want grand gestures or elaborate protestations. It wasn’t easy, but he had to tell her the truth. “I’m not waltzing into anything. I’ve loved you forever. I always will.”

  She swallowed hard, considering his words. “Love isn’t always enough.”

  “Mine is.” He leaned in closer, his gaze intense, his voice layered with affection. “The real question is this. Do you love me?”

  “Not enough.” Not enough to let go of her fears. Not enough to believe. Looking into his gaze and seeing him made her want to. She fisted her hands, fought the rat-tat-tat of panic in her chest. She thought of all the ways he could let her down without meaning to, like Ricky, who’d made promises he’d intended to keep and couldn’t. Tucker had good intentions.