One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (16 page)

“Visiting hours are over in thirty minutes, so come on.”

He followed her up two short flights of stairs and through a pair of stained glass doors. A long desk waited just inside. A nurse looked up, her lips spreading into a surprised smile.

“Sophie! This is kind of late for you.” Her voice was soothing and warm. The nurse rose from her chair and touched Sophie’s hand across the desk. Tucker pulled at his shirt, smoothed it.

“May I see her?” Sophie picked up a pen and signed her name on a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. The nurse nodded and waved them down the hall. Sophie led him to the last door on the left and opened it. He took off his hat, wishing he could beat his nerves with it. Hospitals and nursing homes meant sick people. Sick people caused their loved ones to have emotions. Tucker didn’t want Sophie to have emotions, not bad ones anyway. Her anger he could handle. Her tears, not so much.

The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. A large armoire sat against the far wall, a flat screen TV next to it. There was a writing desk, a dresser, and two armchairs. In the middle of it all was a bed with silver side rails pulled up high. Sophie leaned over and spoke softly.

Tense to the point of nausea, Tucker stepped up behind Sophie. His fingers went numb, the hat nearly falling from his grip when he saw the frail woman lying like a skeletal heap on the mattress. A thin sheet and cable knit blanket were pulled to her waist. Her chest rose and fell slowly beneath a floral nightgown, the bones of her sternum and ribs highlighted where the fabric had settled in-between them. Her head rested on a pillow, and a soft restraint was strapped across her forehead and connected behind the mattress to hold her head in place. A quick glance showed similar restraints across her chest. Sophie picked up the woman’s left hand and brought it lovingly to her cheek.

“Tucker, I’d like you to meet my mother, Violet.” Sophie kissed her mother’s fragile hand and Tucker dropped his hat. He was glad when Sophie started to talk to her mother in hushed tones so he didn’t have to attempt a response. Then she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

“Mom, this is my friend Tucker.” Sad joy filled Sophie’s smile. The inside of Tucker’s chest swelled about three sizes. He slid his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans, careful not to touch the bed rail, as he looked a little closer at Violet. Sophie’s mother. He wanted to ask how…why, but didn’t know if he should speak about Violet in front of her. Sophie’s knowing smile reassured him, but not much. She turned and pulled a chair over for him. Taking the railing down, Sophie sat in her own chair and leaned her elbows on the mattress with Violet’s hand between her own.

Tucker sat motionless as Sophie told him how Violet came to be injured, and about the woman, the mother, she’d been before the accident. Her voice rose between thick and condensed to light as she walked him down an abbreviated memory lane. When she stopped talking, he felt like he’d just run into a brick wall; he’d been hanging on her every word.

Sophie put a hand on her mom’s stomach and laid her head on the mattress so her forehead rested against Violet’s hip. For long moments, Sophie lay that way, almost like she’d forgotten he was in the room. Her fingers traced little circles and lines over the blanket. Violet lay still, eyes shut, mouth gaped, bony chest rising and falling, without any acknowledgement of her daughter’s touch. Despite his discomfort at being in a place filled with emotions and the hint of death, he didn’t feel like a stranger in the room. His blood pounded with an innate sadness for Sophie and the pain she held so tightly inside. He wanted to touch her, to give her some comfort, but seriously doubted the touch of his hand would do it. Tucker’s fingers uncurled and fisted again as if they agreed.

It was a little twisted how much Sophie was struggling to let her mom die, while he struggled to let his live in the new life she’d chosen, with a new man.

Cold shivers dumped over his body like ice water. She straightened in her chair, looping her hair with one hand and pulling it over her shoulder. “So…now you see why I do what I do.” She shifted in her chair to face him. Tucker’s skin was tight and cold, his head throbbing. “It’s…expensive here. I need to support her, make sure she’s provided for in this place. Do you understand now?”

He forced himself to meet her eyes. Speaking would be useless; words would be a nonsensical mess thanks to his thick tongue. Just then the door opened and the nurse stepped in.

“Sophie, can I see you for a minute?” Sophie rose and met the nurse by the door. Tucker couldn’t form a coherent thought while looking at Violet lying there like breathing death. Violet’s breath hitched and sputtered, startling him. Little foamy bubbles pooled from the corner of her mouth and trickled down her chin. She sputtered softly again and her chest slowed. Jerking, Tucker grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and leaned closer. The tissue hovered over the foam. Instead of body warmth against his wrist, cool air wafted from Violet’s frail body. The shape of her eyes and her straight nose with the blunt tip was familiar. Tucker bet if Violet could smile, he’d see two beautiful dimples that matched her daughter’s. A small smile passed his lips as he wiped the spittle from Violet’s mouth.

It could easily be Maeve lying here. He could be looking down on his own mother, watching her vitality and strength fading away into the night. The door opened and shut, Sophie walked back over. She ran her fingers through her mom’s hair and placed a kiss on her cheek. Breath stuck behind Tucker’s Adam’s apple at the absolute grief on Sophie’s face. She looked down when she turned to him.

“I’m going to hang out here for a little bit. Thank you for coming to meet her.” That she’d shared this precious part of her life with him was more of a privilege than Tucker felt he deserved. Her absolute devotion to her mother brought him to his knees. All the pieces fell into place now, completing the puzzle of the constant challenge that was Sophie’s life. Something unnamable inside him snapped.

Tucker still didn’t trust himself to speak. So he squeezed her shoulder and turned to leave as Sophie sat down. Her soft voice was filled with tears that cut Tucker to the bone.

“I love you, Mom.”

Sophie’s words followed him out. Shutting the door, he leaned against it for just a moment to collect the uncomfortable shivers picking at his skin and throw them away. The nurse gave him a small, sympathetic smile. With a nod, Tucker turned to walk down the hall, paused. Then, he turned, and without a second thought, walked back to the nurse’s desk.

Chapter Eighteen

So much for self control.

Tucker had promised himself he wasn’t going to the Tit to see Sophie again, but he’d had his fingers crossed so it didn’t count. Something profound had happened between them at the convalescent home yesterday. Maybe it was more on his part than hers, he didn’t know. All Tucker knew for sure was that he’d crossed a line he’d promised himself never to step over again—and he’d done something to solidify the way he cared for Sophie—something he wasn’t sure he should tell her about. He still couldn’t believe he’d done, though he didn’t regret it for a second.

As he watched Sophie preparing the stage for tonight’s band, Tucker did regret that he still couldn’t completely rationalize his feelings for her. He cared, yeah. And it terrified the hell out of him. Because he wasn’t completely convinced that he could be the man she’d need, that he wouldn’t make her turn away.

But before he could ponder that further, a man made his way through the crowd to stand by the stage, and had no qualms about openly gawking at Sophie. It only took a second for recognition to hit Tucker. He knew that portly outline well. Too well. Blaise Lampe had always been a cow with a bull’s mean streak.

Tucker sat a little straighter in his chair and gripped his beer glass so hard his knuckles cracked. He’d seen Jewel’s father here and there in passing, in the years since Blaise had forbid his daughter from marrying Tucker. Their last face-to-face meeting had left him marinating in the belief that he’d never be good enough. And all these years, he’d believed it. Except that Sophie was making him rethink that some.

And by the look on Blaise’s face, Sophie was giving him thoughts, too. Thoughts Tucker would love nothing more than to shake out of the older man’s head. Taking his beer, Tucker forced a slow, controlled pace as he strode up next to Blaise and nonchalantly took a sip. The older man wobbled a bit, his eyes following Sophie as she walked back and forth across the stage. A tickle of satisfaction made Tucker smirk at just how fat and bald Blaise had gotten in the past few years.

Tucker took another drink. “She sure looks nice, huh?”

Blaise didn’t look at him. Just smiled deep and sloppy, and took a drink from his beer. “Oh yeah.”

Tucker bit back the need for violence. He’d been pushed between his father’s temper and Blaise’s condemnation like a ping pong ball. Tucker blinked fast with the realization of just how much anger he’d been holding onto because of that. Really, he’d known it was there, but right now, for the first time, the force of it was burning him inside. His dad might be gone, but Blaise was standing right in front of him. He forced down another drink. “Ummm hmmm.”

Sophie walked to the far right corner of the stage. Blaise’s eyes went with her, one elbow chicken-winging into Tucker’s arm. “She looks like the type I could coax out back later. Money talks with chicks like her.”

Tucker considered how much of a beating he could lay down before the cops got here. “Cheating on your wife, Lampe? I always knew you and my dad had something in common.” Tucker braced his feet as Blaise turned. The older man looked Tucker up and down with choppy tilts of his chin and a sarcastic huff. Tucker smirked as the older man cranked his neck to look up at him. He’d forgotten Blaise was a good three inches shorter than him.

“Figures you’d be bar slumming, Haywood.”

Just then, Sophie turned their way. Eyes squinting against the light, she spotted Tucker and smiled. Her small acknowledgement warmed him. What he felt for Sophie couldn’t compare to anything from his past and nothing in his future would ever hold a flame to it. There would never be another Sophie, but standing here next to Blaise, Tucker wasn’t convinced he deserved her any more than he’d deserved Jewel.

“She married a cardiologist.” Blaise burped and gave a slow, wicked smile. “That’s a
heart
doctor.” Tucker watched Sophie’s movements on the stage to keep his anger in check. Blaise dove in with gusto. “Two great kids. You know, she cried over you for…maybe a day or two. Didn’t take her long to…to realize she could do better.”

Tucker took another swig just to keep himself in check. If Blaise had quit ogling Sophie, he might have been able to just walk away. But no, the man wagged his eyebrows and licked his bottom lip in her direction before making a slow glance back to Tucker. Now the fat bastard was just egging him on. And god damn it, he’d had messed with his woman once, and Tucker would go to hell before he’d let him get away with it again.

Tucker hoped like hell that Blaise’s words were true—that Jewel was married to a heart doctor with two great kids and a great life. She deserved it. All of it. But this wasn’t about her. After weathering emotions last night while imagining his own mother taking Violet Miller’s place on that hospital bed, and trying to unravel his feelings for Sophie, Tucker’s patience was unraveling in a hurry.

The emotions Lampe rekindled in him were both forbidden and welcome. Tucker had tried hard over the years to keep his quick anger at bay. He was good at walking away when he had to. But right now, he didn’t want to. For years, he’d been the mini-Cooper Haywood who liked to brawl, was stubborn as a dead mule, and temperamental. He could live up to that reputation, no problem.

If Blaise wanted a fight, he’d have to do better than passive-aggressive dribble. Tucker never threw the first punch, but he wasn’t afraid to follow up on one. He’d never had the opportunity to stand up for himself when Blaise had slung insults at him because he’d walked away to try and be the bigger man. The unburied anger in his blood said fuck being the bigger man.

He faced the older man with a lazy smirk. “You know as well as I do that Jewel sees my face when she’s screwing him.” It was a horrible thing to say. The bitter taste of bile rose in his throat as he spoke, but the words had the effect he’d hoped for.

Lampe swung first.

Tucker took the blow below his left cheek. The sting barely had a chance to hurt before he swung back, clocking Lampe between the eyes and driving him back against the stage. Sophie screamed, the crowd quieted.

Before Blaise could guard his face, Tucker hit him again. “That’s for being a piece of shit and pretending otherwise.” Blaise’s hands came up palms out as Tucker drew his fist back again. Robby, the floor bouncer was there before Tucker could put his fist down. Tearing his glare from Blaise, he shrugged off Robby’s grip on his shoulder. Good thing they knew each other well enough that Tucker could brush Robby off without consequence.

“Don’t bother, Robby. I’m leaving. Just promise to make sure Sophie makes it to her car safe.”

Tucker threw Sophie a glance over his shoulder. She stood frozen in place on the stage, watching him walk away. His heart fell. Robby cleared the crowd with the swipe of an arm as they walked to the bar. At the door, Robby patted Tucker on the shoulder.

“I’ll walk her out for you, Tuck. And hey—we all saw Lampe swing first.” Robby winked and shut the door. Alone on the sidewalk, Tucker stared at the door and bit his lower lip. Nothing about this felt anywhere near as satisfying as he’d believed it would. He’d lost his temper like Lampe wanted him to. Now that it was over, Tucker knew he hadn’t really hurt Blaise. He’d proven him right.

…

Later that night, patrons had whispered about Tucker and Lampe’s history, something about an almost engagement to Lampe’s daughter. Blaise had been ogling her before the Tucker incident, but he’d never made a pass at her. Sophie figured that whatever set Tucker off had nothing to do with her, but had brought out his inner demon. And the more she thought about Tucker’s almost engagement and almost wife, the worse the tension inside became.

For a man who’d sworn off relationships, he sure seemed to have a basketful of women outside his front door, her included. The longing her heart had for him was unlike anything she’d ever felt for anyone. Loving him wasn’t a choice, it was like breathing, and when she let herself imagine the possibilities, Sophie wanted to breathe Tucker in until she couldn’t inhale anymore.

Tucker conjured up so much more in her. She could easily take away the sex and still be content just to sit quietly with him, or watch him work. He made her want things. A family. A home. Roots. He made her want to leave the lights of the city behind for the brilliance of a Montana night sky.

Just when she’d thought there wasn’t room in her life for him, for anyone else, suddenly there was. Maybe her heart had grown a little just for him. The timing was still off, her life was still uncertain, but maybe she could afford to hear him out completely. In a way, she owed him that much for the effort he’d been going through to let him know how he felt. Knowing he’d already been in love once, and had put himself out there again, for her, broke something inside her. Her resolve, her resolution to keep love at bay until it was “the right time.”

What if there never was a right time?

Sophie showered and dressed in a pretty, sleeveless cream and pink floral dress she’d found at a second hand shop. It had a deep V-neck and nipped waist with a flowing skirt that hugged her hips and hung just above her knees. She added a brown leather belt and let her hair hang down wet. Tired of makeup, she added a little moisturizer and lip gloss and walked out into the mid-morning sun. Other guests were already up and about. She nodded to a few as she walked the drive from the cabins to the main house, then veered off to the right and headed down to the barns.

She had no idea where Tucker might be this time of day, but it was imperative that she find him. His days varied, he’d told her once, and with it being haying season, he often went back and forth between Paint River and Agate Falls. Knowing Tucker and Jaxon were often joined at the hip, she had a blossom of hope when she spotted Jaxon coming out of the horse barn. She called a greeting and he paused, giving her an appreciative look-over.

“Hell, Sophie. Country life is looking good on you.”

She blushed. “Thanks. Any idea where I can find Tucker?”

Jaxon tipped his hat back a little and gave her a steady stare. She couldn’t read his expression, but it was strong enough to give her a shiver. “Hayloft in that brown barn right there. Walk in, go up the ladder on your immediate right.” With a nod, he wandered off, but not before a huge smile cracked his face. “Be warned,” Jaxon called. “He’s downright hostile today.”

She swallowed down a flicker of anxiety and followed Jax’s directions. Climbing a ladder wasn’t what she had in mind when she’d put on this dress. Luckily her sandals didn’t slide as she cleared the rungs and poked her head through the opening into the cavernous mow. Sunlight streamed into the space from the open loft door, but mounds of hay created blobs of darkness and shadow. Stepping into the mow, Sophie wiped her hands on her dress and picked her way carefully through the room.

“Tucker?” Little flecks of chaff danced in the streaming sunlight like nature’s confetti. Loose hay crunched under her feet. Despite its size, the room was a little humid and warm.

“What the hell, Sophie?” Tucker stepped out from behind a stack of hay, his leather-clad fingers gripping a huge square bale by twine strings. He tossed the bale onto another stack like it weighed nothing. The squint in his eyes and hard line of his mouth might have been misread as exertion, but she wasn’t fooled. He gave her a once over, his expression never changing.

“I needed to see you.” Sophie rubbed her arms. Tucker turned and grabbed another bale.

“I’ve got work to do.” He hauled another bale, lifting and throwing it effortlessly. His biceps bulged with the strenuous movement, his chest muscles contracting under the thin layer of his light brown Henley. Hatless, the deep brown waves of Tucker’s hair shone red and gold in the sunlight.

“What happened last night?” Sophie crossed her arms tighter and followed him when he walked away. Tucker shook his head and swiped an irritated hand to dismiss her.

“Don’t you have something to do, Sophie?”

His dismissal stung and this change in him was outright alarming. “I’m doing it.”

“Let me be clear: go away.” He pulled off his gloves and ran a bare forearm across his face. Grabbing a water bottle, Tucker downed half of it. Sophie blinked back the ache. Jaxon warned her and he hadn’t been kidding. She’d hoped to find out what had spurred him to violence last night, but now she was a bit afraid to know. This Tucker didn’t display an inch of the tenderness she’d seen in him when he’d helped her pet Pana. This Tucker was cut from a completely different cloth.

Taking a deep breath, Sophie steeled herself. “Tucker…”

He threw the bottle with a loud curse. Sophie jumped as water streaked over her shins. “What do you want from me, Sophie? Huh? You want an explanation for why I punched an old guy in the face?” He spread his arms wide with a sarcastic chuckle. “Because I’m an asshole. I am a
piece of shit
and you should run far, far away!”

He spun and walked near the gaping loft door. A rope, nearly twice the size of Tucker’s wrist, hung down from the ceiling. He grabbed it and swung it forward. Sophie looked up to the sound of metal on metal as a steel pulley slid forward on an overhead track. Tucker guided the rope to a Y-shaped floor-to-ceiling beam and started looping it around.

Without thought, Sophie walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Tucker tensed under her touch. “I wouldn’t run from you.” Her voice was shaking, but not nearly as much as her insides were. Tucker turned slowly, his sleepy eyes heavy with dark emotion. He grabbed her wrist in one hand and held her for long seconds, his eyes boring into hers, his chest racing hers for each breath. Then he yanked her forward and Sophie forgot to breathe.