Читать книгу Tucker's Crossing - Marina Adair - Страница 9

Chapter 2

Gravel crunched under his tires, pelting the paint job of his car, as Cody Tucker sped down the same country road he’d driven a thousand times over. Giant oak trees lined the winding lane, gnarled and intertwined, creating a canopy of mottled green. Passing through those iron gates only confirmed that he was back at the one place he’d sworn he’d never return—Tucker’s Crossing.

Besides the surprising lack of cows, the once-thriving cattle ranch looked exactly the same. Tens of thousands of acres of gently rolling hills spotted with scrub oak that made a century of Tuckers seem insignificant. Despite the years of pain and disappointment, the raw beauty of The Crossing never failed to steal his breath. Like it or not, this land was in his blood.

But where the hell were all the cows?

His great-great-granddad was one of the founders of Sweet Plains. Packed up his young wife and headed west from Georgia with the dream of raising cattle. And that’s what he did. What Tuckers had done for four generations. So how the hell could someone run a beef ranch with no cows?

Rounding the last curve, Cody swore when the yellow ranch house tore through the tranquil view. Two stories of history and tradition were held in by the white porch. Massive windows spanned the lower level of the house. And a porch swing, his mama’s favorite place to end the day, rocked silently—empty.

He’d always known his father was a controlling son of a bitch—he just hadn’t known that his old man could still screw with him from the grave. After the reading of Silas Tucker’s will, Cody had loaded up his car and set out for the family ranch at Tucker’s Crossing.

Their mama had loved that house, put every last piece of herself into making it a home. Cody would be damned if his father destroyed that too. Being that there were only three Tuckers left, he knew that if he didn’t step up he’d not only let his mama down but, worse still, one of his brothers would come, determined to make things right. And that was not going to happen.

Noah, two years younger and several inches taller than Cody, was a Texas Ranger in the middle of a career-making assignment. Beau, the youngest and only Tucker who had ever come close to being called charming, as he could charm women into bed and horses out of the chute with one damn grin, had nationals to think about. Plus Cody couldn’t get his mind off of the way his baby brother had looked when Mr. Parnell, the executor of Silas’s will, got to the part about someone having to live at the ranch house. Beau didn’t even blink at the demand but hidden beneath the courage and swagger that comes from being a champion bulldogger, Cody saw something he hadn’t seen since the night he’d gone back for his kid brother—fear.

He wasn’t about to let either of his brothers make that kind of sacrifice just to satisfy their old man’s last attempt at control. He, on the other hand, could work from the ranch and put the plan they’d mapped out into action.

Five years ago, tired of making other people rich, Cody had founded Tucker Industries. What started out as a boutique commodities producer and trading firm quickly went from sweat equity to something that made his family’s wealth look like small change. Now he had the freedom, and the money, to work from wherever. He’d just never imagined wherever would ever encompass Sweet Plains or Tucker’s Crossing. But after a lifetime of protecting his kid brothers, it was a hard habit to quit.

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?

“What’s wrong with loafers?”

“You’re on a ranch. In the middle of Texas. Wearing softer hide than the cows.”

“Visited a lot of cattle ranches in San Francisco, did you? Between all your dinner parties and Save the Arts soirées, I’m surprised you found the time.”

He sounded so—mean. Shelby crossed her arms, to show him she could be mean too, and to hide her cute and totally inappropriate summer dress. Thankfully, she’d left her equally unsuitable city-girl shoes upstairs.

Cody stepped closer with that easy gait of his, which was more of a stroll than a strut. Stopping right in front of her, he left just enough space to keep them a world apart.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Now that she was clothed, she wasn’t sure if she should go for the hey-now-that-you-don’t-have-a-gun-pointed-at-me-it’s-great-to-see-you attitude or hide under the table. Since cowering in front of an intimidating man was something she’d sworn never to do again, she gave him what she hoped was a hard look. “That I was hot and needed a shower. Didn’t expect Jesse James to come riding through.”

“Yeah, well, you could have gotten yourself shot.” He sounded furious, which she’d take any day over controlled and unaffected.

“You wouldn’t have shot me. You engaged the safety the minute you saw it was me.”

“That’s just because I’m good. Someone else might not have bothered to ask questions first.” His tone softened, and his hand came up to cup her face. His touch was reverent and gentle, almost as if he needed real, tangible proof that she was really there.

Heat gathered along the path his fingers took. Not prepared for the overwhelming electricity that surged between them, and knowing how easy it would be to lose herself to him, Shelby turned her head.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Shelby Lynn?”

“Don’t you try to sweet-talk your way out of busting into a lady’s bathroom. What if Ms. Luella had been in there? Lord, Cody, you scared me half to death. And do you apologize for your behavior? No. You scold me like I am some misbehaving child who—”

“You’re still scared.”

“I am not.”

“Then why are you rambling?”

“I’m not rambling.”

“Yes, you are. You always ramble when you get nervous.”

It irked her that he could still read her. He didn’t know her anymore, had given up his right to know her. “I’m not that naive college girl anymore.”

“Is that right?” His eyes slid down her, stopping to rest at her breasts, and the blatant male appreciation in his appraisal caused her nipples to bead under her bodice, which went to show how very stupid hormones could make her.

He gave a low whistle. And if there was any lingering doubt that he had failed to notice, Cody locked eyes with Shelby, his mouth kicking up into that easy grin of his—the one that had stolen her heart. The one that said, “Gotcha,” and reminded her of late nights filled with making love, and lazy days spent in tangled sheets.

“My, my, my, you’re right about that. You surely have grown up,” he drawled, purposely turning on the Southern charm.

“Yeah, well last time you saw me you were so busy burning rubber out the door, I wasn’t sure you even had the time to get a good look,” Shelby blurted and instantly wanted to suck the words back into her mouth and swallow them whole. The last thing she needed was him knowing just how much he’d hurt her. How much he still got to her.

Yeah, good luck with that.

Their relationship had been explosive from the start, the connection instantaneous. A shy glance over her biology notes had turned into dinner at Joe’s Chicken and Waffles and ended with leftovers for breakfast. Cody never really left, moving his things in little by little until their lives were so intertwined no one knew what was whose.

Then he left. And although his best friend had relayed Cody’s message explaining why, things were still unsettled, achingly intertwined. They always would be.

“Yeah, well last time I saw you, you were wearing a ring.”

“Not for a couple of years now.” Shelby lifted her hand and wiggled her naked finger.

“Is that right?” Cody said again, this time with a healthy dash of smugness. “Preston always was an idiot.”

Her friends had thought she was crazy to leave a man like Preston Van Warren. On paper he was perfect, rich and handsome and funny, with a charisma and family name that drew people in and hooked them. Too bad it had taken Shelby so long to realize that under all that easy charm was a controlling bully who took joy in degrading his wife.

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling ridiculously happy that someone else in the world knew what a jerk her ex was.

Cody’s body went taut, as if he were waiting for the whistle to blow and the game to begin. Closing the gap, he pressed her back into the counter. Their bodies nearly flush, he lowered his head, his lips close enough to taste. Her blood pounded with anticipation—and fear—causing her ears to ring loudly.

“You’re smokin’.” Cody’s voice sounded low and seductive, a proposition.

Shelby felt her stomach heat and wondered if Cody wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted him to kiss her. Then she smacked herself for wondering and reminded herself that he’d come back because of the will, not her. Right?

Cody pressed all the way forward, his chest hard against her nipples, and for one gut-lurching, heart-stopping, totally terrifying moment, she thought he was actually going to kiss her.

He rested his hands on the counter’s ledge, caging her in and whispered, “I was referring to the oven. But I’m willing to go there, too.”

Shelby swallowed. The light pink in her cheeks turned a mortifying red. “Don’t you dare try to flirt with me!”

“Honey, when I’m flirting, you’ll know. There’ll be no trying about it.” But the cocky grin he wore told her that he was flirting. And her body was all for it.

“You’re just trying to intimidate me into leaving.” Shoving against the wall of his chest, she scrambled to open the oven, and prayed for the strength not to stick her head inside and close the door. “Pick a new strategy. That one won’t work.”

She grabbed the oven mitts. “Ms. Luella would kill me if I burned her corn bread. She’s practicing for the cook-off. She added oil from a habañero and water imported from the Rockies. She thinks it’s her way to get one up on the competition.” She was rambling again, dang it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, any signs of that earlier charm gone.

“Taking the bread out of the oven.” She waved the golden brown loaf in his face, wafting toasted cornmeal and honey throughout the room.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

She did know. Her time was up. But when she turned around, ready to tell him why she was here and what she wanted, she found Cody taking in the room. The lines around his mouth were now deep, pale ridges.

Panic moistened her palms. Had he seen the agreement? No. He wasn’t even looking at the papers. He was staring through the table at something only he could see.

Surrounded by six empty chairs, each situated in front of its own gingham place mat, the farm-style table sat with its gerbera daisy–filled mason jar, looking like it was built for laughter-filled family meals. But for Cody, it must have been another reminder of anything but. Not what she wanted him focused on right now.

“Today must have been hard,” Shelby started, trying to voice what she knew he never would. Guys like Cody thought being strong meant hiding the hurt, and the longer he hid, the longer the healing would take. And Shelby was running out of time. “I mean, coming home after your dad—”

“You have no idea about how hard today was . . . or what my dad was like.” Cody’s face contorted at the word. He was building walls faster than she could backpedal, securely shutting her out.

“I know,” Shelby began. “When you didn’t show up to the funeral . . . I just wanted . . . I needed to know that you were okay.”

“You should have thought about that before you ran off and married Preston.”

Shelby stepped back, not by design, but because she needed space. The only person who ever mentioned Preston was Silas. And he was dead. Well, and Gina. But hearing his name come from Cody took her back to a time she’d rather forget. “You didn’t give me any choice.”

Instead of shouting back, condemning her for marrying his best friend and costing him his job, like any other hot-blooded Texan would do, Cody merely shrugged, making it painfully clear that whatever heartache she’d suffered over their breakup had been one-sided. Hers. To him, it had been no big deal.

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” she said, feeling ridiculous for offering to serve him in his own house. But she needed him to hear her out and she refused to deliver her news with him towering over her.

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Look, there’s some pie in the fridge—”

“I don’t want pie.”

“I have sweet tea.”

“I don’t want any damn tea.”

Shelby wanted to cry. Once again it was all going to hell where Cody was concerned. Why couldn’t he ever just do what she needed him to do? Because he was a Tucker!