Page 79 of Wrangled Up

“After the first horse was hurt.”

“What?” Tucker threw down his shovel and faced him. Wrath played over his rugged features like a tornado eating up the surface of a volcano. Apocalyptic rage. “He hurt my fucking horses?”

“I don’t know that for sure, man. Just a theory. But yeah, a horse in the top pasture was limping. I checked it myself, and when I figured out what was wrong with it, Claire talked to some people and I spoke with Cyril Wells down at the feed store about how to care for it.”

Tucker’s shoulders relaxed minutely, but a vein throbbed violently in his throat. “You did right, Chris. I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t think about telling you. It’s just part of day to day life, right?”

Tucker considered his words. “Yeah, sometimes a horse comes up lame. But not two—not my horses. C’mon.”

He strode away. Christian grabbed his shirt from the ground and headed after him. They jumped into Tucker’s truck and sped up the ridge. The high weeds on either side of the dirt road reminded him of Claire and the moment when he’d spotted her in the middle of the road. His heart had surged with absolute love. Quite the same as the sensation he felt when Tucker had returned.

He clamped a hand on Tucker’s firm thigh muscle. His lover looked at him sharply, as if still deep in his anger. Then his expression grew less severe. He covered Christian’s hand with his, warm and gloved.

“If Dale and Leon are fucking with my horses, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“I know,” Christian said with mild amusement.

Tucker’s lip quirked up reluctantly, and he squeezed Christian’s hand. “I want you to take a closer look at this horse and tell me if you think the injury is the same.”

“Sure.”

A minute later, they were inside the fence. Tucker stuck two fingers in his mouth and blasted a shrill whistle that brought several of the horses running toward them. Christian watched with admiration as Tucker controlled his stock with skill.

He picked out the limping mare easily among the group.

“Ease up to her now. Don’t want her to spook and kick.”

Christian shot him another amused look. “I know.” He’d done this a time or two in the weeks Tucker was gone. He was no longer the skittish guy around the animals—tending them was like breathing now.

He walked right up to the mare, patted her nose and let her get acquainted with his scent. Then he circled around to her hind leg, which she held inches off the ground.

He dug the frog he often carried out of his back pocket.

“Lookit you. When the hell did you become a cowboy, Chris?”

He glanced up to see the appreciation in his lover’s stare—a look that made his insides knot and created a dull ache in his groin.

“Guess it was always in me.” Christian ducked his head and caught the mare’s leg. She danced a little and he had to release her. When he tried to look a second time, Tucker soothed her with a few clicks, and she let him bend her leg up to look at her hoof.

It was cleaned out—something Tucker had probably done yesterday after checking on her. But sure enough, there was some swelling in the same place the last horse had shown lame.

“Uh.”

Tucker neared at Christian’s grunt. “What is it?”

“It looks the same. Think they’re stepping in a hole somewhere around here?”

“Dunno. Let’s walk the property and see what we find.” Tucker took off, and Christian let the horse go with a pat and a soothing word of thanks.

They crisscrossed the pasture, gazes to the ground, looking for rodent holes or a rain washout. When Christian spotted the earth churned up near the fence, he gave a shout.

Tucker came at a jog. For a minute, Christian could hardly breathe. The hard roll of muscles reminded him too much of the wayTucker felt moving inside him. His cock twitched to life.

“What’d ya find?” Tucker stopped inches from him. Too close. It was impossible for Christian to stop himself from hooking a hand around Tucker’s nape and hauling his mouth to his.

Their lips met briefly but hard. Desperation rode just below the surface, but they both stifled it. There was work to do.

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