The Christmas Challenge Page 9

  “Sorry,” he broke the kiss and still holding her, pressed his forehead against hers. Their breath was labored and the mixing of air made him want to kiss her all over again. He was so hard he hurt, and kept trying to shift away from her, but her body came back like a homing beacon and the press of her pelvis against him was sweet torture. “Sorry. Friends. Right.”

  “No it was me. I know I’ve been accused of being a flirt and a tease, and I can’t totally disagree, but I didn’t mean… I don’t want to give you a double message, but you taste… You smell… I don’t even know how to describe it. Fantastic. Primal. You do something to me. It was like every hormone in my body lost its mind at the same time,” she said.

  “Same here only maybe more intense,” he admitted. Her honesty was so refreshing. He admired her spirit. Her way of living life.

  Tucker laughed and continued to stroke his face. “I like you Laird Hunter. I really like you. And you have the hottest mouth in all fifty states.”

  “All fifty,” he repeated, amused and trying to focus on her comment instead of how much he’d still like to slide his hand under her sweater and feel the weight of her breasts in each palm. Taste her nipples. Just kiss and stroke and suck on them for hours. He’d always been a breast man for sure. Not big necessarily but borderline obsessed, and Tucker’s breasts had been starring in his dreams since he’d met her. Being so close was not helping to ease the thrum of desire to touch and taste and hell, he wanted to devour them. Devour her. He wanted to taste her. And he should step away now. But he didn’t.

  “I don’t think you can judge all fifty states, Tucker.” He hugged her tighter and brought one of her curls to his lips.

  She was still for a second then she pulled away a bit.

  “I’ve been with a lot of men, Laird.”

  He smiled. “I hope they were good to you and that you enjoyed each one.”

  She smiled back. “Most. Some were mistakes, but I love sex, I really do. I love every part of it. The flirting, the kissing. The skin and, well, you get the picture.”

  “Vividly.”

  “And I have picked the absolute worst time to take a vow of celibacy.”

  He groaned. “Ah yes, that. Remind me again why you’re abstaining so I am too.”

  She worried her plump bottom lip, redder and swollen from his kisses. “Well I wanted to be good for Tanner’s wedding. Not make a scene. Not be a distraction. Not be so…so me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she want you to be you?”

  “We’ve got a lot of history.”

  And he had none with his twin.

  “Do you want to be different?” he asked, curious.

  She didn’t answer for so long he thought she wouldn’t. Then she slid her gloved hand into his.

  “I do,” she said. “I’ve hurt a lot of people. Not deliberately mostly, but thoughtlessly. And I want to take more care. I want to make myself and other people feel good.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth and then kissed it. “You definitely make me feel better than good, Tucker.”

  Chapter Eight

  Laird had ended up putting all the groceries away. He’d also gotten on the computer and ordered a few items that they hadn’t been able to find in town with the ranch credit card. Tanner kept it on a shelf in the kitchen where there was a small nook that she’d turned into a mini office. He liked the kitchen. Clean lines, upgraded appliances, plenty of counter space, storage and an efficient workspace.

  He’d moved a few things around to better suit his cooking prep style and, just as he’d turned on the potato “chips” to roast, Tucker had appeared, washed her hands, and plugged in the panini maker. After lunch Tucker had cleaned up and he’d put together a cowboy-style chili and left it simmering on the stove. He’d then gone for a run as the snow wasn’t yet deep enough to be too much of a problem and the roads on the ranch were fairly clear. Tucker had disappeared again into the equestrian barn.

  He pushed himself hard, but when he came back within sight of the farmhouse with the smoke curling lazily out of the chimney he still didn’t have the peace of mind he normally associated with a long run. He hated being so unsettled and was trying to talk himself into just letting it go for a week, settling into some sort of routine just to get his head space clear, but no, that wouldn’t work either because he’d never been a procrastinator. He needed to get something done, he did it. Until now.

  He saw Tanner walking toward the house, and it occurred to him that he should have checked in with her earlier to find out where he could put his backpack and take a shower. She’d said room and board, and he intended to take her up on the board part, wishing the idea of seeing Tucker every day and working with her wasn’t a huge part of the appeal.

  They were both not in a good place right now, and while that was exactly the appeal of an intense but short affair for him, he knew for her it would be all wrong. She liked to paint herself as a flirt with an ironclad heart, but everything about her said “love me, accept me” to him, and Laird had never loved a woman. He’d enjoyed, liked, and lusted after many of them. He felt Tucker was his soul mate in that approach, but ever since Nina had announced she was pregnant but wasn’t going to continue the pregnancy because clearly he wasn’t ready and neither was she so not to worry, he’d felt differently. Because after the initial shock, he had felt ready. He’d wanted to be a dad. He’d wanted the baby and began thinking about how he would remake his life in order to raise the child, with her.

  Nina had laughed in his face, her disbelief transparent. “You’re not father material,” she’d scorned. “You’re the hot guy chicks nail and remember later in their thirties and forties as their best sex ever, but you’re not husband material, and definitely not father material. I sure as hell am not going to put my life on hold and sit around waiting for you to come back from wherever just to play dad for a couple of weeks before you’re off again. You’re not a keeper.”

  And neither was his child.

  He bent over trying to gulp in enough air. His lungs felt deflated, squeezed in a fist, and his head felt like it was in a vise.

  “Laird, are you okay?”

  He forced himself up. Tanner. He’d forgotten she was in the yard near the house, that he had changed the course of his run to intercept her so he could ask her about where he should stay. Her pale green eyes didn’t have the wariness that they had with Tucker.

  “It’s different exercising in the snow, but Denver and Boulder get some winter weather. You need some water?” she asked, concerned.

  Great. Now she thought he was a wimp.

  “I’m fine.” Other than looking like an out-of-shape idiot, a weekend warrior who usually sat around most of the week drinking beer.

  “Tucker’s working with the horses,” Tanner said pointing to something he couldn’t see. “Over there. You can walk or take the ranch truck.”

  “I was going to ask you about where I should put my stuff. I’d like a shower.” As if the poor girl couldn’t tell. He was dripping, and now that he’d stopped running, the chill was setting in, but he thought he’d look like too much of a poser stretching in front of her. Tanner looked fit but it was from working a physically demanding job daily, not from hitting the gym or hiking trails.

  “Oh, Tucker already put your backpack in her apartment in the equestrian barn. There’s a bathroom there so you can shower and change and…” She broke off and blushed. “Thanks again for stepping up, Laird. Breakfast was delicious and the sandwiches were wolfed down in seconds.”

  He was still caught up in the “her apartment” statement. And now he noticed the blush. What was up with that? He could shower, change and… She’d left that hanging, but he got it now. She thought he and Tucker were involved. Well that made sense. And they were, but in a very unfamiliar way. And now his things were in her apartment. Was there no other place for him to stay? And how did he throw that back in her face?

  “Great,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “I can wal
k you over there.”

  “No thank you,” he said thinking that she had a lot of work to do, and also not wanting to put her out. Tucker had told him about Tanner’s injury, and he’d noticed the limp and wasn’t sure if it still hurt or not. “I’ll find it. Dinner’s made so whenever you and your crew are ready just let me know and I’ll whip up some cornbread muffins.”

  “You don’t need—”

  He waved away her protest. “I gotta eat too. I’m staying here for the month. Easy to be around for dinner as well. Thanks, Tanner. See you later.”

  And he jogged in the direction she’d indicated. His steps were light, but his heart was heavy. How the hell was he going to resist Tucker if they were bunking together?

  *

  Tucker put away the hoof pick brush and picked up a curry comb. Pegasus nickered and pushed hard against Tucker clearly looking for a treat.

  “You could at least work for it,” she chided her horse. “Not expect it’s your due.” She began to brush on Pegasus’ withers and felt a little more tension leave her beautiful snow-white baby. Tucker laid her head against Pegasus’ neck and closed her eyes. “I know it’s strange here, but you’ll get used to it.”

  Although probably not. Tucker curled her fingers around the curry comb as a wave of anguish swept over her. How had everything that had seemed so right gone so wrong? As if sensing her mood, Pegasus began side stepping.

  “Shshsh,” she soothed beginning to brush again, turning off her mind because she was good at that. Usually.

  “Sorry,” Tanner peered through the open stall door and Tucker realized she’d been crying.

  No way to hide that. There was a time when Tanner would have asked her what was wrong. Would have held her. Said something to make all the feelings thrashing around inside of her go still and silent. Tanner had always been able to make her feel better and help her to make a plan to extricate herself from her latest debacle.

  “Saw the door open.” Tanner entered the stall, her dog, Ryder at her heels.

  “You still make all the rounds,” Tucker said, brushing Pegasus and pretending that she cried every day in a horse stall, and if she didn’t acknowledge it, neither would Tanner.

  “Yeah.” Tanner hesitated. “Pegasus looks good. A champion.”

  Tucker’s heart filled. It was an olive branch. “Yeah. She’s beautiful.”

  “Why’d you bring her?”

  Tucker swallowed, kept brushing, counting the strokes. “I didn’t want to be apart from her that long, and…and I’m not sure I’ll go back to the circuit.”

  There. The words were out. Finally.

  Tanner took three steps in the stall. “Really?”

  “Not definitely,” Tucker couldn’t help the back slide. “I… My heart’s not in it.” God that sounded so stupid and of course Tanner noticed.

  “Your heart.”

  “I do have one. Surprise, surprise,” she mocked.

  Silence. Just the sounds of the barn. The horses eating their evening meal, settling in.

  “Daddy really sold the ranch?”

  Her voice sounded small, like she and Tanner were kids again, holding hands and crouched down in the corner of their closet, hiding, telling secrets.

  “Yes.”

  The despair in her sister’s clipped tone was harder to bear.

  “How could he?” Tucker whispered.

  Tanner looked across the barn and now her eyes swam with tears. Tucker felt the tears like they were her own only tripled. Even when Tanner had had her accident she hadn’t cried. She’d bitten down on her lip to keep from screaming. Not that that had worked, but she hadn’t cried. And she had tried to get up to check on Windsong.

  “I…I don’t know,” Tanner said. “I knew he was worried. That he was in pain. I knew his heart wasn’t in it after his accident.” She shook her head and looked at her sister. “The McTavish family has been in the valley since eighteen ninety nine.”

  Tucker continued to brush. She concentrated on keeping her emotions out of it. She had come home for Tanner. Okay. She’d come home for herself as well. She needed her sister. She hadn’t realized how much until Tanner had shut her out in September after the rodeo. She hadn’t called or texted or sent any pictures of life on the ranch, news about the town. And when Tucker had finally worked up the nerve to call, her sister for once in her life hadn’t answered. Didn’t return the calls. Didn’t answer the texts.

  “Did he say why?” Tucker finally broke the silence.

  Tanner didn’t answer, and Tucker took the time to really examine her twin. She was thinner than she’d been in September. Her mouth tight, dark circles under her eyes. Tucker felt fear kick in. Tanner didn’t look well, and she sure as hell didn’t look like a bride a few weeks from her wedding.

  “Only that he was sorry. Sorry.” Tanner kicked at the dirt in the stall, her slim body radiating tension.

  “‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it.” Tucker tossed the curry comb in Pegasus’ grooming kit. “He sold our home.”

  “I don’t think he thought of it that way.”

  “What other way is there?” Tucker demanded.

  “It’s my fault.”

  “Bullshit,” Tucker said. “You’ve done everything for this ranch. Brought it back financially from the brink. Increased the breeding stock of bucking bulls, pulled higher scores at professional rodeos, and increased the sales of ejaculate by two hundred percent. None of this is your fault.”

  Tanner leaned against the stall. Pegasus nuzzled her hip and a ghost of a smile touched her lips as she pulled out a few carrots. She held her palm flat as Pegasus daintily took the treat.

  “I made a lot of changes fast that didn’t sit well with him.”

  “Too damn bad,” Tucker said. “He never liked anyone’s opinion but his own.”

  “Yours. He liked yours.”

  “You’re not going to pull some crap about ‘Daddy liked me better,’” Tucker demanded. “Tell me that this is not what this is about.”

  Tanner shifted her weight, shifting from one foot to the other and then she rested her left boot up against the side of the stall. She looked Tucker straight in the eye, serious. “He did like you better, but no. This isn’t what this is about. I knew he wasn’t feeling well. He was depressed. Lonely. I focused on the ranch, not him.”

  “You gave up your life for him,” Tucker objected. “Quit school. Moved back home.”

  “You don’t get it. Dad didn’t get it,” Tanner’s voice held an unfamiliar bitter note. “This is my life. This!” She held her hands wide, encompassing the barn and probably everything else. “This. And it’s all gone because I didn’t pay enough attention to Dad. Because I was busy with the ranch. And because I’m a daughter, not a son.”

  Tanner slipped through the stall door, Ryder on her heels, and closed it with a soft click.

  “Wait,” Tucker followed her out after slipping Pegasus the apple slices she’d brought. “That’s it. You’re not going to fight the sale? You gave up your life for this ranch and you’re just going to walk away?”

  “This is my life, Tucker. School was a means to get here. Where I am. Breeding bucking bulls. Seeing McTavish bulls get to the top of the IBR and the finals in Las Vegas. Selling bulls to other families who want to get into the IBR. I gave up nothing to come home.”

  “Then why don’t you fight?” Tucker faced her sister, fists clenched. “Tell the seller Daddy changed his mind. That he’s sick. That he shouldn’t make legal decisions until he’s better.”

  She pulled at Tanner’s sleeve, halting her progress before she made it to the barn door. She snuck a quick look up at the apartment. Lights on but no sign of Laird up there. She hadn’t seen him since they’d all had dinner together. He’d kept looking at her hungrily and with a definite question in his eyes, one that she hadn’t wanted to answer.

  “Don’t run away, Tanner. Tell me.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “What do you mean? We are sisters. Twins. T
hat’s forever. I know I pissed you off in September. I know I got drunk and acted like an idiot. But that’s in the past. Get over it. You got Luke and I got nothing. Happy?”

  “You still love Luke?” Tanner gasped.

  “No. No. I never loved him. Not like you. I don’t love like that.”

  Tanner’s face was an interesting combination of anger, hurt, disbelief, hope, and then pity. Tucker felt herself squirming uncomfortably like she’d been called to the principal’s office.

  “Luke was…is handsome and we were both rodeo. It was fun. Not love. Not forever,” Tucker said, and she braced for the stab of guilt that told her she was a liar making light of what she’d had with Luke, but it didn’t come. She eased out a breath. Maybe she finally was coming to terms with the fact that Luke was Tanner’s cowboy.

  “Please, tell me about the ranch. Why can’t we fight the sale? Can’t we back out?”

  She’d never bought property before so she didn’t fully understand the process. Couldn’t sellers change their minds?

  “The financials were worse than I thought,” Tanner bit at her nails that were already cut short. “And Daddy had high medical bills and two loans, one a balloon payment from the time of my accident since he didn’t have insurance for us at that time and hadn’t bought a plan through the rodeo association. He also didn’t buy disability insurance for himself.”

  Tucker stared in outrage. Anything she’d been about to say fled at the stupidity of no health or disability insurance. She was supposed to be impulsive and fun loving and irresponsible, but she always paid her premiums. Always insured her horse.

  “But the ranch is doing well,” Tucker said. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. I’ve made it more profitable, and when our bulls get to the IBR, even the first tier, their stud fees will be higher, but still we have to cover the loans, or we’ll have to declare bankruptcy then we won’t be able to get back on our feet or buy anything for years.”

  “Can we sell anything else? Break off some of the ranch or…”

  Tanner shook her head. “Not when it’s in escrow and not without forfeiting the earnest money, which Daddy spent.” Tanner’s voice was bitter.