Tucker's Crossing (3 page)

Cody pulled up to the house, cut the engine, and rested his head on the seatback. His eyes locked and held on the three wooden steps that led to the front door. He dreaded the prospect of twelve months of hard time in a place that brought up nothing but bad memories. What a mess.

He grabbed his bag and headed up the walkway. The afternoon sun scorched the earth, cracking the soil into canyons and deep valleys, reducing everything else to dust. Triple-digit temperatures were synonymous with summertime in Sweet Plains, but when they came on as early as May it meant trouble for ranchers and farmers. And Cody had enough trouble on the horizon.

The last thing he wanted to do was go inside that house. He’d spent the past decade working hard to be respected and feared in a cutthroat industry. But right now, looking at that brass doorknob, Cody felt no better than the cowering, snot-nosed kid he used to be.

He knew one thing though—if he turned tail and headed back to Austin, his father won.

Silas, dead set on ruining his kids’ lives, included a stipulation in his will, forcing one of the Tuckers to inhabit the family homestead for a minimum of 365 consecutive days. If they didn’t comply, Cody and his brothers could kiss all claim to the land good-bye. That wasn’t something Cody could live with.

So there he was, ready to get to work. First order of business: clean house. And he wasn’t talking about the floors and windows.

Pushing through the door, he took in the family room. The house was airy and large by normal standards. Then again, nothing Silas ever did was small.

Everything in the place was the same: the perfectly hung portraits, the meticulous rows of leather-bound books—hell, even the porcelain rooster that his mama bought at the summer auction when he was eight was still sitting on the coffee table, looking like the day she brought it home. He half expected to find the old man reading in the recliner.

Hanging his jacket on the rack and wanting to get settled, Cody made his way up the stairs and down the long hallway toward his bedroom. At the third doorway he stopped. Grown man or not, his hands still went clammy when he looked into his parents’ room—well, his mom’s room. His father had stopped sleeping in there when Cody was just a boy.

A flowered sundress hung from the back of the antique vanity. The worn cotton swayed gently, dancing in the breeze that skated through the opened window and bringing with it memories of a happier time and the faint scent of honeysuckle.

God, how long had it been since Cody had set foot in this room? It was the night he’d come home and found Beau in a pummeled heap on the floor, unconscious and barely breathing. He’d carried him to his truck and promised his brother that neither of them was ever coming back.

And he’d be damned if he went back on his word, even if Silas Tucker was dead.

Cody grabbed the handle to close the door when he spotted something that sent his instincts on high alert. Steam was coming up from under the bathroom door.

He reached inside his bag and extracted his Remington .45, letting the bag crumple to the floor. He’d purposely given the housekeeper the day off and told the foreman to send everyone home early so that the house would be empty.

Someone obviously hadn’t gotten the message.

Safety off, he quietly cracked the bathroom door and scanned the room. The rose wallpaper, colored glass bottles, and lace-edged towels were a lot to take in. He could practically hear the sound of the water lapping against the tub wall, feel the burn in his throat, taste the bile, and remember the sight of his mama, her head resting against the ledge, eyes staring into heaven.

Scented steam curled up from behind the curtain, frosting the mirrors and window. The spray of water on porcelain slowed and stopped with a final trickle.

The curtain was pulled back, inch by inch, second by second. Unable to focus past the gauzy haze, his lids widened as one feminine leg stepped onto the bath mat, followed by another, until finally, out from the fog emerged . . .
Shelby Lynn?

“What the hell are
you
doing here?”

Shelby’s nerves jerked into action as the familiar, masculine voice blasted her. The towel spilled from her fingers to pile at her feet, her eyes ricocheting off the gun and into the dark, molasses pools of her past.

All she could do was blink wildly, unable to make sense of what she was seeing. Then it all came into focus and she inhaled so hard she was afraid she just might pass out. Facing down six-plus feet of coiled muscle could do that to a girl.

Unable to think—well, at all—she couldn’t decide if she should answer his question or disappear back into the safety of the shower. Working on pure instinct, she rushed to splay her hands over her most vulnerable parts, contorting her body to appear smaller. Then she met his gaze, those whiskey-brown eyes that had haunted her, and she couldn’t help but remember every masculine detail of the man she had thought she’d lost forever.

No way
. This could not be happening. Shelby had waited nine years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days for this moment. She had prepared a speech. Even practiced it once on one of the cows. But all of the words she might have said, had rehearsed in her mind, vanished. Out of the countless scenarios she’d mentally played out, never once in all that time had she imagined that her reunion with Cody Tucker would take place with her as naked as a centerfold, staring down the barrel of a .45.

She felt her skin flush from toes to cheeks, and up to her other cheeks. Reaching for her robe, she mentally planned her escape. If she was going to do this, she would damn well be dressed.

“Don’t even think about moving,” Cody said in that sexy drawl that sent all kinds of unwelcome sensations shooting through her body. He tipped the gun toward her robe, cocky as ever. “Not ’til you answer my question.”

Shelby swallowed back a frustrated scream and resisted the temptation to kick him. Was he serious? She might have been a yes-girl once upon a time, but she’d changed. She was here to settle the past and fight for her future, and that didn’t include being pushed around.

“Tough,” she said, acutely aware of her nude state. “I’m tired, got a gun pointed at me, and dripping water all over the rug. Just because you’re finally ready to talk doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here naked to let you do it. You hear me?”

“Oh, I hear . . .” His eyes traveled the entire length of her very exposed body, as if taking detailed notes of the changes since his exodus from her life. “And
see
you, perfectly.”

Ignoring the gun, and that killer smile, Shelby gathered her robe and the courage needed to see this through. She’d answer his question, get him to agree to her proposal, and then he’d leave. And Shelby could get back to her life before her heart was any the wiser.

Cody leaned comfortably against the door frame. He looked pretty damn good for a guy pointing a gun in her general direction.
She
, on the other hand, looked a fright. Her skin was all blotchy and she resembled a drowned kitty.

Cinching the belt of her robe, she did her best to keep her shoulders squared and her expression natural—ignoring Cody’s glare.

“Didn’t your mama tell you that playing at Goldilocks is illegal?” he asked.

Never breaking eye contact, Shelby took a challenging step forward, then another one, her chest stopping just short of the barrel. All she’d wanted was to kick her shoes off, take a long shower, and enjoy a moment of peace on what had ended up being a crazy day. Was that so much to hope for?

“Didn’t your mama teach you it’s rude to point a gun in someone’s face?”

The minute the words were spoken, Cody shut down. According to Ms. Luella, this bathroom was where, after a horrendous battle with cancer, Cody’s mom had opted for a nice long bath and a bottle of sleeping pills, never imagining a nine-year-old Cody would come home early from school and find her lifeless body.

But the way he just stood there, the epitome of cool, while Shelby was shaking all the way down to her terry-cloth robe, made her want to knock that arrogant grin from his face. But not like this.

Then Cody’s gaze met hers, a familiar expression firmly in place, reminding her that her concern was unwarranted. He was, as she remembered him, in control and completely untouchable.

“Get out,” he said, his voice calm and quiet.

Ridiculous as it might be, his words cut so deep, Shelby felt them clear down in her bones. This was the man who’d promised to come back for her. Vowed to love her for all time. Then he broke her heart, disappeared, and—for heaven’s sake, had he just threatened her life?

Despite all that, she just wanted to walk into his arms, tell him how much she’d thought about him over the years, and then shove him into a pile of horse chips.

“I’m not going anywhere. And you could have knocked.”

“Why the hell should I have to knock? It’s my house. The foreman assured me the place would be empty when I got here.”

Sam Holden, the ranch foreman, knew her and Cody’s past. Knew why she was here. She felt a sense of betrayal that he hadn’t bothered to warn her.

“Yeah, well, Sam should have told me you’d decided to finally pay us all a visit!” Without another word, Shelby shoved past Cody and left, desperate to get space between them before she did something stupid, like shoot him.

She stayed calm enough to lock herself in one of the guest rooms, step into her dress and tell herself she was all right. She could handle this. But after three failed attempts to zip up the back, she gave up pretending.

Three years ago, Shelby had come to Tucker’s Crossing, desperate for a safe place to regroup and rediscover the woman she had once been. Cody’s dad had given her that, and a place to call home. Then he’d died and she’d buried him, grieved for him, all the while preparing for Cody’s return.

As expected, he never showed up. She finally had to resign herself, once again, to the idea that she might never get the chance to make things right for herself, for Cody—for her family.

Shelby fumbled with the zipper of her dress. This was bad. Really bad. Because when she had stepped out of the shower and saw him, looking exactly like she remembered, her heart started racing just the way it used to. And Shelby was terrified.

Not because she’d had a gun pointed at her. No, Shelby felt like her chest was about to split open because the one man she needed on her side had finally come home—and she’d somehow managed to piss him off. And she was afraid he was two seconds away from hightailing it out of there, away from Tucker’s Crossing, away from Sweet Plains, and away from her, only to disappear for another decade.

Cody yanked his bedroom door shut and threw his bag down. Was this some kind of a sick joke? His old man’s last laugh? It had to be.

Coming back was bad enough. But walking into his mom’s room and seeing Shelby,
all
of Shelby, with her wet, lush curves bared for his viewing, was enough to drive a man over the edge.

“Christ!” Cody kicked the bed frame, expelling some of the rage that had been building since the reading of the will.

Why was she here? What was she after?
She’d
dumped him. Betrayed him in every way possible. Hell, she’d married his best friend. But all the betrayal in the world didn’t stop his need. Those blue eyes and that smart mouth still turned him on.

Cody dropped his head and rubbed at the knot that was starting to form at the base of his skull. He looked down at his crotch, caught sight of his raging hard-on and groaned. Why did she have to look so damn good?

The truth was—he’d blown it as only a Tucker could do. Oh, she must not have been too upset over the breakup, the same one that had reshaped every aspect of his adult life—because she’d moved on, right into his business partner’s bed.

But if Cody were being honest, he’d damn well scared her into it. Not that his friend’s bank account and family name were a bad consolation prize.

No matter the reason, they were over. He wasn’t here to reminisce with his first love about their past regardless of how badly he wanted her. He’d come to Tucker’s Crossing with a single purpose—securing his and his brothers’ legacy. And no one was going to get in his way. So until he knew more, knew why Shelby was here, he’d keep the details of his father’s will and his plans for The Crossing to himself.

Not that she’d be around long enough to get in his way. Cody planned to get his answers and then send her and her tight little ass packing.

Shelby stacked the remaining lunch dishes into the dishwasher. Though half an hour had passed, her efforts to distract herself fell short of their desired effect.

Cody was back. And he wanted her gone.

With a practiced flick of the wrist, she twisted her hair up, and placed a damp towel on the back of her exposed neck, her body as queasy as it had been when she’d looked up at her intruder and seen Cody looking back. Despite all of her planning, Shelby was about as prepared to see him as he was to see her. And she wondered sadly if they would ever be any different.

“Shelby Lynn?” Cody’s voice came from behind, wrapping itself around her and grabbing hold. Her fingers loosened, the hair slipping and spilling down to the middle of her back.

Shelby Lynn.
Cody had called her that a thousand times before. But hearing it now, falling from his lips so casually, created a yearning deep within her. It was as if the life she’d been living these past ten years had never existed.

Setting the cloth on the counter, Shelby smoothed her hands down the fabric of her dress. Going for calm and collected, she held her position by the sink and prayed for some witty remark. One that would show him how unaffected she was, how strong she’d become.

But Lord help her, she’d missed everything about this man. And except for his hair, which formed unruly curls at his neck, everything about Cody crackled with control and order. The small scar on his chin, the smell of musky cologne mixed with soap, even the way he wore his—slacks?

“Are you wearing loafers?”

He blinked, looking baffled. Join the club, buddy. Since when did Cody Tucker—cowboy, rough-and-tumble cattle wrangler, and all-around sexy Texan—start dressing like a city boy?