One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (9 page)

He brushed off the memories and had no sooner thrown himself on the sofa than Jaxon was asleep again in the adjoining bedroom. He lay there, listening to his friend’s soft snores, staring at the shadows the table lamp cast on the ceiling. This place was home as much as the big house on the hill. As he settled in, he thought of Sophie. Jaxon’s rumbling echoed behind Tucker’s thoughts of soft blue eyes and a full pink mouth as he sunk into sleep, and it felt just right.

Chapter Ten

Learning ballet was a balance of foundation steps, those that supported everything else learned later. Forget the early basics and sometimes the more advanced footwork and movements would fail. Sophie figured breathing was a little like ballet. Her mother’s body, once graceful and strong with the basic movements of life, now struggled to remember the early steps, causing everything else to stumble. Her lungs were healthy. They could hold all the air her body needed, if only her brain could send the correct signals to put breathing back into a normal rhythm instead of the shallow, stunted effort it had become.

Her brain wasn’t sending anything correctly anymore. Sometimes Violet’s breathing stopped completely, only to resume with gasping breaths. Her pulse raced, then it slowed down, and then raced again. No matter how much she struggled to maintain life, there was nothing anyone could do to make it easier to live, or to die. Violet, as she had always done, would complete her life in her own way. Sophie tried to remember that as she watched the rise and fall of Violet’s thin chest beneath the pink blanket.

Even though Sophie had been coming to visit several times a year for the past two years, it still seemed that she hadn’t had nearly enough time with her mother. Sophie looked down at her knotted fingers as guilt flooded her. She’d never admit it to Carla; had a hard enough time admitting it to herself, but each time she’d visited Violet in the nursing home, Sophie left with the determination that she wasn’t going to visit her mother again. It was too hard to see Violet withering away, too difficult to deal with the loss of her mother’s vitality. It was one thing when an ambulance patient teetered on death’s door, but to have her own flesh and blood shuffling toward that precipice was unbearable. Yet, each time she told herself she couldn’t visit Violet again, Sophie knew that she would. Because she couldn’t not come. She still needed her mother so much.

If Violet were healthy, they would have a normal mother-daughter conversation in which Sophie spilled her guts about losing her job, and running out of money; about Tucker. She’d confess that she felt like a failure, that her life was so far off-track, she couldn’t find her way back on. Knowing Violet, she’d pat Sophie’s hand and tell her to put on big girl panties and deal with it, sister. It’s life. You’ll know what to do when the time comes—her favorite piece of advice to dish out.

Sophie held back tears. Maybe she’d even ask her mom how to make peach pie, just in case she needed a secret Tucker weapon. There’d been a time when Violet had made all the delicious things, filling their small apartment with the stomach-fluttering scent of baked goods. All that homemade yumminess had fallen off the radar as Sophie and Carla grew. A mother with three jobs and two non-stop, expensive-to-raise daughters didn’t leave much time for embracing the inner Martha Stewart.

What she needed more than a pie lesson was a warm shoulder to lean on and a feminine hand with beautiful, oval tipped nails to stroke her cheek and tell her life would be fine. She needed the scent of Red Door perfume and the throaty laugh that never hesitated to grace Sophie’s ears.

She just needed her mom.

Taking Violet’s hand, Sophie studied her mother’s face. Her time with Tucker on the bridge had been amazing. It was just the kind of thing she’d share with Violet, minus the sex, of course, though her mom would know without being told. She’d tell her about the amazing beauty of the land, but she wouldn’t tell her how much that beauty hurt to see. Because it did. Sophie never imagined herself a country girl, but the landscape took her breath away and filled her up with a sense of awe. Yet, each time she got lost in the distant mountains or the stretches of fields dotted with colorful flowers, bitterness rose up. It was hard to connect with the beauty around her when it reminded her so much of her mother’s struggle. Montana wasn’t just Violet’s last vacation spot. It was her prison.

Sophie smoothed her mother’s hair back and placed a kiss on her forehead. For the first time, she was glad she didn’t have a job to run back to, one that would dictate how long she got to spend here before she had to return. She’d be able to stay with Violet this time, as long as she wanted to. The dwindling clock in her mother’s lifespan might decide to add a few more hours, or hit snooze at any moment. There was no way to tell, but if Sophie was able to rearrange things a bit, she could be available to be here, to be present, with her mom until the end.

She could get a job right here in Missoula, maybe find a place to stay for a while and see how it went instead of returning to Minnesota and continuing her job search there. Stay here. In Montana. Closer to her mom, her sister, for all that was worth…and to Tucker. It all depended on if she was hired for the hospital job she’d interviewed for back in Minnesota, she supposed. Until then, it didn’t hurt to make other plans.

“What do you think about that, mom?” she found herself saying, as if she’d shared her thoughts out loud. Violet wasn’t able to respond to what people said to her, but it didn’t mean she didn’t hear or understand them. Sophie knew this, but it always seemed strange to talk to Violet when she knew she wouldn’t get a response—like talking to a doll instead of a living person. Her mom loved this land. Maybe Montana didn’t have to be a prison if Sophie could continue to paint images of the beauty Violet had loved so much. No harm could come of giving Violet a verbal photo album. Maybe it would be a little healing for them both.

“I bet you didn’t know there’s a covered bridge about an hour away from here, mom,” Sophie began softly. “I met someone, a cowboy. Seriously, like a real cowboy with a hat and a really big horse…”

…

“What’s that?” Jaxon eyed Tucker suspiciously.

Tucker sniffed, took a big bite. “Cookie.”

“Your ma make those?” Jaxon edged closer, looping rope. Tucker watched him with amusement, taking another bite for effect. The shit-eating twinkle in Jaxon’s eyes meant no good was about to go down. Yeah, they were juveniles where baked goods were concerned. He wasn’t too macho to admit he had a hell of a sweet tooth and wasn’t afraid to feed it.

“Yup.” He chewed, gave his friend a wink. “They’re good, too.”

Jax hung the looped rope over a fence post, held out one dusty gloved hand. “Knowing you, you’ve got a whole pocket full.”

“You know I don’t share.” Before he could reach for the stash of cookies in his shirt pocket, Jaxon railed him against the fence. Tucker laughed, swiveling to one side, but not quick enough to avoid Jax’s big arm banding around his chest. Tucker grabbed Jax’s wrist with one hand, reached behind him and grabbed a fistful of shirt with the other. With a grunt, he tossed Jax cattywampus over his shoulder. Both men spun, Jaxon’s back slamming into the gate.

Jaxon’s smile was amused and easy. They’d been squaring off for years. Jaxon was the only man on the ranch to match Tucker’s size, and both of them loved the chance to get the better of the other. Thirty-one was not too old for a good old-fashioned smack-down. Pinning his friend with an elbow in his chest, Tucker reached into his pocket and pulled out a cookie. He wagged it in front of Jaxon’s hungry eyes.

“This one is yours.” He ate it, shrugged with a snort. “Oops.” Jaxon grabbed Tucker’s shirt with both hands, shoved him back. A dog skittered past, nearly getting trampled by Tuck’s boots. They locked arms, faced off, breathing hard.

“I’ve known you a long time, Tuck, “ Jaxon snickered, getting the advantage and spinning Tucker around in a dance of twisted arms and tangled feet. “So far, I’ve only seen two things bring you to your knees: the blonde in cabin eighteen with the little yellow bikini, and your ma’s double chocolate chip.”

Tucker arched his back, his neck tingling at the mention of Sophie. It was just enough distraction to give the other man full advantage. He pinned Tucker’s arms behind his back, kicked his knees out with one boot and laughed as Tucker’s legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Jaxon reached over Tucker’s shoulder and nabbed the rest of the cookies from his pocket.

“Make that three, since I totally just whooped your ass.”

Tucker jumped up as fast as he went down, making a swipe for the cookies Jaxon was shoving in his mouth. “Sophie has not brought me to my knees,” he scoffed. “She’s…entertainment.” The words sounded wrong as they left his lips. Sophie was entertaining, for sure, but cheapening their intimacy made Tucker want to punch himself. His subconscious had tried to wiggle in some complex thought over his exact feelings for one Sophie Miller, but Tucker had shut it down each time. No sense in wasting time or energy on hemming-and-hawing over possibilities he’d never actually pursue.

“Like hell. You don’t
entertain
the same woman twice.”

“Jaxon,” Tucker warned, knowing the look in his friend’s eye all too well. When his friend wanted something, he wanted it now. In that, they were a lot alike. Impatient, greedy, and when it came down to it, a little selfish. They both had a Cooper Haywood streak in them, though Tucker was the only one who had inherited it by blood. They’d both learned by example though, it seemed.

“You blew off haying over at Agate Falls to take her to the bridge.” Jaxon slid him a knowing look. “When have you ever dumped work for a woman? Never. So, it’s about time you tell me what’s going on with this girl, ‘cause I’m tired of waiting for you to come out with it already.”

Tucker’s spine tingled. His face scrunched as he tried to recall when he’d missed haying at the neighboring ranch. Then it hit him, that’s what he’d forgotten the morning he got caught up in Sophie and taken his good old time loving her up on the bridge. He’d gotten invested in her and, in turn, forgotten about his responsibilities. The ranch needed a steady hand to keep it going, and that meant him while Cole was away. Even if his brother had been here, Tucker would have a hard time forgiving himself for skipping out on work.

Anger flashed hot and quick. “God damn it!”

Jaxon gave a don’t-worry-about-it smile. “It was just hay. And it rained, so we quit early anyway.” Jaxon leaned toward Tucker. “So…is she finally
the one
?”

“You obviously have a death wish, Jax.” Tucker slammed his hands into his leather gloves and beat the dust off his jeans. The Independence Day heat was seeping through every layer of clothing, making him sweaty and impatient. To be honest, he was feeling downright mean at the moment. Enough talking about Sophie—thinking about her. But Jaxon had a thick skull to match his muscles, apparently.

“What? It’s a legitimate question.”

“Been there, done that. There will never be a
one
.” He adjusted the strap of his chaps over his right hip, fiddling with the buckle longer than he needed to. “It’s time for you to shut the fuck up.”

Jax went on like a stupid man. “I know you like to tell yourself that.” He slapped Tucker on the shoulder with a glove. “Just because you chose not to fight for Jewel doesn’t mean you won’t have a chance with someone else, Tuck. It’s time to move on; see what happens. In the meantime, I’ll sit back, munching on your mama’s cookies, and watch the show.”

Tucker flinched inwardly at the mention of Jewel’s name. No, he hadn’t fought for her when her father backed him into a wall and said no son of Cooper Haywood’s would ever be good enough. He hadn’t given in to her pleas to elope because he wasn’t the kind of man who’d steal a girl away from her family like that. Despite his money and ranching success, it all boiled down to being the son of a mean-spirited womanizer who’d made a sour name for himself in this small community and tarnished his sons by proxy. And for all his temper and inability to stick to one woman, Tucker wasn’t far behind. It’s what people assumed about him after all, so why bother to change perception, right? He was who he was and he had better things to do with his time than to try and convince people he was a good guy.

Besides, how many bad relationship examples did one guy need? His parent’s marriage had been rocky at best; his brother Cole’s first wife, Livy, had used him for his money and run off with a chunk of it, leaving their daughter, Birdie behind. Combined with the Jewel-experience, Tucker had his fill of love gone wrong. When Jaxon opened his mouth again, Tucker clenched his jaw.

Jaxon put his palms out and took a teasing step back. “I’m shutting up now.”

“You’re lucky you’re like a brother to me, asshole.” Despite his attempt at lightheartedness, Tucker figured he was in a bit of trouble. He might not be able to recall the sweeter details of his first love, but the passion he felt for Sophie was screaming loud and clear. She only had a few days left here at Paint River, and then she’d be moving on. Probably wouldn’t hurt to set her straight anyway, about this thing between them. It wasn’t going to go anywhere. He was fine with that, and though Sophie hadn’t given him any indication that she was going to turn into the clingy, let’s-make-this-more type, it was better to be safe than sorry.

He should clear it up for her, just in case. Tonight. Yeah, but he liked having her here, oddly. Every time he’d seen a squirrel these past couple of days, he’d busted up. City girl with a spatula—her shirt falling off one shoulder, tight thighs peeking beneath the hem of worn, denim shorts. His lips twitched with the remembered feel of her mouth on his and the fucking hot sounds that had come from her throat when he’d spread her out on the bridge.

This had to quit. Shaking it off, Tucker nodded toward the horse Jaxon had tied to the fence.

“You ready to saddle up so we can get going?” Enough chatter, enough Sophie. They had fences to check the rest of the afternoon before the annual Fourth of July party at the neighboring ranch, Agate Falls, tonight. Tucker hadn’t planned on attending, but now that he had to apologize to Agate Falls’ owner Darren Waite for missing the haying party the other day, he was obligated.

He left Jax to go into the barn to retrieve his own gelding. Usually empty this time of day, Tucker was surprised to hear a feminine giggle, followed by a man’s deep, intimate laugh, waft down the center aisle. He paused, eyes searching the refracted light, certain he was about to walk in on a ranch hand and one of the kitchen staff or something. It wouldn’t be the first time.