Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (23 page)

His lover gave a snort.
Lover.
How had it happened?

Easy—he’d set eyes on Christian and allowed his true feelings to emerge with no thought to the fog of pain Heather had left behind. In fact, at this minute, he felt more alive than he had since that fateful night of her accident.

“She’s somethin’,” Christian said.

Tucker shifted, bringing his hip flush against Christian’s simply to feel his heat. “That she is.”

“But you hurt her badly when you left, Langley.” Christian pivoted his head to eye him.

Tucker met his gaze then let it skitter away. He saw too much hurt in Christian’s eyes. Hurt he’d put there and deserved to see every day of his life, but dammit, didn’t they understand his reasons for running?

No, they didn’t. He hadn’t spoken to them in weeks or explained himself in any way.

When he didn’t reply, Christian plowed on. “There were a lot of things we didn’t know how to do on the ranch, she and I. But she’s tenacious. If she doesn’t know, she spends hours on the Internet looking it up. Or asking people at the diner. And Letty is a valuable source of information.” Christian swept a hand before him to indicate the land behind Boomerang’s pen. “So we managed to keep this up. For you.”

Tucker ducked his head between his hunched shoulders. “It’s complicated.”

“Always is, man.”

How to tell him about Heather’s family kicking him out forever? Or that he’d had to run from the love he felt for Claire?

“Forward,” Christian said to Boomerang, and she strutted across the pen like a goddamn supermodel. If Tucker’s chest wasn’t so tight, he would have burst into hysterical laughter.

Christian turned to him. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Tucker cocked a brow. “I’d say you’ve been spending too much time with Letty. You’re talking like an old lady.”

The corner of Christian’s mouth quirked up. “That’s true. We’ve been living here like a cozy family. What do you have to say to
that
?”

It hurts like hell that you were able to survive at all without me.

He couldn’t say it. Jealousy was a hot coal in his gut. “I’m thankful that you took care of things.”

“Things meaning Claire.”

“Yeah, and more. She sure deserves someone better than me.”

“Someone like me,” Christian said in a voice that said he really believed it. He met Tucker’s gaze head-on, the lights in his eyes as challenging as the headlights of a big rig barreling at him without brakes. “If you intend to hurt her again, I’m going to have to kick your ass, Langley.”

He nodded once, hard. Then probed Christian’s stare deeper. “And if I hurt you?”

“You have. I think you know…my feelings for you. In case letting you take me in the ass wasn’t enough of an indication.”

A huff of laughter left Tucker, making room in his lungs to draw a breath big enough to make his ribs creak. Working his new piercing between his teeth, he slung an arm around Christian’s shoulders and drew their foreheads together until they bumped. The spicy scents of his lover infused him with fresh lust.

“We’re in a tangle, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah.” Christian’s breath washed across his face, smelling of mint. “We’d better go rescue Claire.”

“You sure you want me to come in there with you and do that?”

Christian glared at him. “You runnin’ again?”

He considered it for the first time. While away, he’d spent many long hours contemplating his life’s path. Heather was his entire existence, but she no longer could be. There were people in his life too important to let suffer because he couldn’t get his head together.

He squeezed Christian’s nape lightly. “Not runnin’. Well, I am, I guess. I’m running straight at you and Claire.”

Christian’s eyes flickered shut at his words. Before he could open them, Tucker leaned in and brushed his mouth over Christian’s. Lightly. Then getting a real taste of him, he went back for more.

A groan rumbled in Christian’s chest as they grappled with each other, mouths hot and open, tongues liquid mercury. Slipping, demanding, plunging deep. The Wyoming wind that seemed to be ever-present plucked at their clothes, as if asking for consent to strip them.

Tucker kneaded Christian’s spine, skimming the hard planes of muscle he’d watched straining while he fisted his cock. Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he tightened his hold on Christian and dragged him toward the barn.

Christian followed without resistance, plucking at Tucker’s shirt buttons as they hit the pool of dark shadows inside. Hay and clean stalls greeted Tucker’s nostrils, and he took a second to appreciate all that this man had done for him.

For them.

He shoved Christian against the wall and slanted his mouth hungrily over his. Lust sparked between them, primal and greedy. They tore at each other’s waistbands, searching until they found their prizes.

He groaned as Christian wrapped his thick fingers around his cock. Tucker reached deep into Christian’s boxers, gliding his fingers up from the base of his cock to the velvety head.

A bead of pre-come welled on the tip, which he flicked with his thumb. Christian growled into Tucker’s mouth. Tucker bit his lover’s lip savagely as he began to pump his shaft.

Christian worked over his cock with nimble fingers, applying the perfect pressure, tugging his length and knowing all of Tucker’s sweet spots. Tucker hooked his pinky around Christian’s and they stroked each other in wild abandon.

Curls of heat rose through Tucker’s body and stole his mind. He shoved his lover harder against the wall. He angled Christian’s cock so it rubbed sensuously against his own.

Their breath rasped louder.

“Hell,” Christian groaned.

“Spill on me. Let me feel your come on my dick.”

Christian stiffened and pumped Tucker’s shaft faster. Squeezing, releasing. Tucker’s balls drew up tight to his body. Fuck, he was going to explode first, and he didn’t want that.

“Not yet. Together,” Christian grated out.

Tucker ran his tongue around Christian’s mouth. Christian chased his right back. Passion elevated to a level so high, his head was fogged with cloud cover. He could no longer see, only feel.

Rough hands, scrape of beard, velvet tongue.
Come
.

Christian erupted. He shook as each pump of cream shot from his body. The heated drops struck Tucker’s shaft and he lost it.

He tore his mouth away from Christian’s and roared his release. Their spurts mingled. “Shit, shit, shit,” he growled. The idea of their juices mixing made him empty completely.

At that instant, a snippet of a song floated through his head—a line from the chorus of a song he associated with Heather. A song slated to play at their wedding reception.

He jerked back. Gave Christian’s cock one last slow pump then released it as pain froze his heart. Did he really have any business giving himself to Christian and Claire if he couldn’t even fucking orgasm without thinking of Heather?

In a blinding second, the pendulum of his decision to stay swung sharply to the other side. He could leave his lovers to each other—watch their love build until their initials were emblazoned in gold on a linen invitation.
C and C.

There could never be C, C and T.

Afraid to hurt Christian further, he gave him one last brush of his lips. Then still breathing heavily, he tried for a smile. “I’ve got horses to tend.”

He zipped up, mess and all, and headed out to his truck. Deep down, he knew he was being a coward for leaving Claire to deal with her father alone. But Letty was there and could obviously handle the big truck driver.

And Christian would probably walk into the kitchen and charm Jake Mickelson with his solid, down-to-earth personality. By the time Jake walked out, he’d be ready to write a check for a big wedding.

Tucker revved his engine and headed down the drive toward town, away from too many emotions.

He needed a beer.

Chapter Ten

“Hey, Davis.” Shady’s familiar twang rang through the house phone into Christian’s head.

He shook his head. Did he have a tab at The Hellion that needed paid? He hadn’t gone for a beer run in weeks. “Yeah?”

“I got your buddy down here, drunk as a Wyoming skunk and picking fights with the customers.”

“Fuck.” Christian swung his gaze to the homey scene in the kitchen, where Claire and Letty were coring apples for sauce. Jake had made himself comfy with a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

He lowered his voice and said to Shady, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Pocketing his cell, he fished in the front of his jeans for his keys. Then he poked his head into the kitchen. “I’m running into town for a few minutes. Need anything, Claire?”

She looked up from the mess before her. A little curl hung in one dark, amused eye. “No, we’ve got everything we need.”

“‘Kay. Be back soon.” He swung toward the front door, and a laughing echo of “Quickie Mart” followed him.

In the truck, he gnashed his molars in frustration. No chili dog in the world could ease his anger with Tucker. He’d been home less than a day. During that time, he’d delivered countless orgasms, had a wrestling match with Claire’s father and a pissing contest with his relatives over the land. Now he was down at The Hellion, drunk off his ass?

“Damn idiot,” Christian muttered.

He spun up gravel in his rush to get down the drive and on to the main road. Veering around the massive pothole at the mouth of the driveway, he locked his boot to the pedal and took off.

He didn’t exactly relate to Tucker’s thought process. His fiancée had been gone for years. While grief never went away, it lessened in time. Christian suspected that Tucker was clinging to his pain, nurturing it as a way to protect himself from ever getting hurt again.

Did he believe Claire would cut his heart out? She was as sweet as they came. Saccharine. But maybe it was time for her to get pissed too and give Tucker a hard talking-to. If she finally got angry…

Christian’s mouth quirked at the corner at the thought of his calm girl getting riled up as she’d been when they met. Too easily he could picture her beautiful face flushed pink and her curls rioting around her head.

But this was perhaps the worst part of the situation. Tucker was taking advantage of Claire’s good nature, and dammit, she deserved better.

Tucker said he was running straight at him and Claire. For a moment, warmth infused Christian’s chest, tingling through his body and down to the low throb of awareness where Tucker had penetrated him earlier. God, the pleasure he’d gained from being joined with the man he loved.

He shifted as his cock began to swell. When he found Tucker, he was going to give him a good reaming too—with words. When he was sober, Christian would show him who could run the show. Tucker wasn’t the only one who could take what he wanted—and Christian wanted to deliver more pleasure to Tucker than the man had ever known.

When he bumped into the parking lot of The Hellion, he spotted only one available space, clear at the end of the lot. The place was hopping tonight. Loud strains of music blared from the rough wooden walls. Even the big sign above the doors seemed to tremble with the bass.

Inside, he spotted Tucker right away. Mostly because the guy was the center of attention—shirt off and roped muscles straining as he hurled himself at two men who circled him. Tucker was slightly unsteady from too much alcohol, but the bald determination on his red face told Christian that he could do some serious damage to these guys.

“Langley!” Christian’s holler brought Tucker’s head up. He focused on Christian. At that moment, a lanky man with tight Wranglers hugging his spaghetti thin legs took a chance. He lunged forward and delivered a sharp uppercut to Tucker’s jaw.

Tucker roared with fury, fists clenched. He lowered his head and charged the man. He caught him off his feet and threw him to the dirty wooden floor. Cries reverberated from the girls in the crowd, and the men jeered.

Shady appeared at Christian’s side. “Get his ass out of here before the cops haul him away. They’ll be here any minute.”

With a sigh, Christian ducked into the fray. The second man was on Tucker’s back. Thuds of fists against midsection made Christian’s stomach hollow. He gripped the man’s arm and tried to haul him off Tucker, but he clung like a burr on a dog’s tail.

“Get the hell off, man!”

The guy swung blindly at Christian, catching him square in the eye.

A primal rage burst in his chest. With a bellow, he threw a punch right at the burr’s ear. His knuckles smashed brutally, splitting around bone and cartilage. Pain radiated up his wrist to his elbow, but he ignored it and reveled in the man’s howl of pain.

The burr rolled off Tucker, who was beating the skinny cowboy into a piece of linguini. Through the flurry of fists, Christian saw that Tucker had the man’s face uglied up.

“Stop, you ass,” Christian ground out, close to Tucker’s ear. He caught Tucker’s arm mid-punch and twisted it ruthlessly behind his back. When his friend started to break his hold, Christian jerked his arm higher, putting pressure on the shoulder socket. “Get up and apologize and walk away or get a dislocated shoulder. Those are your choices.”