Chapter Twenty-Six
…what I feel is admiration, and…and other things…
Tucker measured his emotional state by the simple fact that he’d hurled that full bale of hay—and a three-string bale at that, weighing in at about a hundred and twenty-five pounds—to the top of the stack without a twinge. Or at least, not one he felt physically.
He heard a thump from the stall next to the hay storage, and leaned back to look.
Pie, Jeremy’s beloved pinto pony, was resting his head on the top of the lower half of the stall door.
The little piebald, who had inspired the purchase of the bigger and feistier Splatter, tilted his head so he could look at Tucker, but without lifting it from the door, making him look like some sort of cartoon character.
It made Tucker laugh, and it was such a relief he reached out to the hay bale he’d just stacked and grabbed a yummy-looking handful and gave it to the little one.
He was turning to reach for the next bale when he heard footsteps. He straightened to look and was shocked right back into his earlier thoughts when he saw Emily walking toward him.
For a moment all he could do was stare at her.
Every time he saw her out of that uniform it seemed to startle him.
As it did now, watching her in jeans and a tank top of some silky material that flowed over her.
She moved with such elegance, those long legs covering ground so gracefully.
She had her hair in a long tail tied at the back of her neck, but he could see it moving with each stride.
He barely noticed the big black dog at her side, although the horses did, heads popping out up and down the barn aisle.
Especially Splatter, who seemed to recognize his new buddy immediately.
Emily was smiling at him. That registered belatedly, although he suspected that odd burst of warmth he was feeling was related more to that smile than to his exertion of tossing hay bales, or the fact that it had broken eighty degrees some time ago.
“Emily.”
He only realized he’d said it—or whispered it—when he heard it. It was crazy. He didn’t think he’d ever heard himself sound like that.
“Hi,” she said as she came to a halt a bare two feet away. “Sorry to interrupt your work.”
He bent slightly to pat Lobo’s head when the dog nudged at him. Then he glanced at the two remaining bales. “Don’t apologize for stopping me from lifting those.”
She looked from the bales on the barn floor to their obvious destination three and four bales up on the big stack. “I’d be tempted to be looking for a really hungry horse,” she said.
He suddenly felt a bit less tense. And when Splatter let out a rather loud snort, clearly aimed at Lobo, he found himself laughing. And agreeing. “I was thinking I’d leave the last one down here for dinner.”
“It would make no sense to put it up there to sit for just a few hours,” she said, very solemnly.
He found himself laughing again. But also wondering what she was doing here. “You looking for Nic?”
She shook her head. “Saw her in town this morning. She suggested Lobo and Splatter needed another play session.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t argue with that, although he did wonder if Nic had had more than the temperamental horse in mind. “Yeah.” He glanced toward the paint, who was now thumping a hoof against the stall door. “That’d be good for him, I think. Maybe wear him out a bit.”
She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said, “I was thinking, it’s about time for Jeremy to get out of school, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I’m going to go pick him up as soon as I finish this. Jackson’s on a call with Hollywood.”
She grimaced. “Sorry to hear that.”
He laughed again and had the fleeting thought that he did that a lot around her. “Nah, it’s with one of the good guys. Miles Flint, who’s one of the producers of Stonewall .”
“Trying to convince him to come back?” she asked, and he liked that she sounded concerned.
“They’re friends, above and beyond the show, so I think Miles gets that he won’t. And he’s not a jerk.”
“So not like the guy Nic told me about a while back, who came out here and tried to drag him back?”
“Felix? The Swiffer?” She laughed, and it pleased him enough that he grinned. “Nope, nothing like him at all.”
“So,” she said with a nod toward Splatter, “shall we load Lobo back into my car and go pick up Jeremy for the play date with your energetic friend over there?”
As if for emphasis, Splatter snorted again and let out a rather demanding-sounding whinny. Or maybe it was just Tucker’s mind interpreting it that way. As if he needed an excuse to say yes.
And before he could think of all the reasons not to, he’d said it.
The first part of the ride into town was silent, because all he could think of to talk about was that damned job of hers, and that was the last thing he wanted to hear about. Besides, it was her day off, so she probably didn’t want to talk about it either.
He was grateful when, just before they hit the town limits, an approaching pickup tapped a light honk of the horn. The driver waved cheerfully at Emily. He didn’t know who the dark-haired woman was, but obviously she knew Emily, and vice versa, because Emily waved back, smiling widely.
She glanced at him after they’d passed. “You haven’t met Riley yet?”
“No.”
“Riley Garrett. Her ranch is one of the bigger ones in the area. She’s another long-time Last Stander. Her great-great-great-grandfather bought the land just after the revolution, and they’ve been here ever since.”
“This place seems to hang on to people.”
“It does. If you’ve the right heart for the place, it’s a home like nowhere else.”
He thought that was an almost poetic way to put it, and it made him smile. Again. Funny how he smiled so much around her. It felt…strange. Different. New. Nice.
No, it felt way beyond nice.
Perhaps fortunately, they reached the school before he could get too deep into that.
There were a few other cars parked along the street, still occupied—and running, no doubt for the A/C—so he guessed also there to pick someone up.
Since it was so warm, he was a little surprised when Emily said she thought she and Lobo would get out and walk over to the entrance.
But then he spotted one of the kids who had been there that first day, harassing Jeremy.
Today he was with two others he didn’t recognize, but who had the same attitude and way of strutting rather than walking.
“Good idea,” he muttered, getting out of the car himself.
He found himself watching Lobo, wondering if the dog had some sort of canine sixth sense about trouble pending. The animal was alert, and looking at the trio of boys, but didn’t seem wound up or tense.
There was no sign of Jeremy yet, but they were a couple of minutes early, so they stopped outside the front doors to wait. Emily wasn’t blatantly watching the boys, but he had the feeling she knew perfectly well where they were, and that they were slowly, casually—too casually?—walking toward them.
“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.
“Cocky, smart-ass, but not necessarily aggressive,” she said.
A little to his own shock, he laughed. When she gave him a sideways glance, he shrugged. “So, me at that age,” he said.
She smiled at that, widely. And that made him feel…he wasn’t sure he had a word for it.
The boys stopped about four feet away, and after a cautious glance at the still-alert but not tensed Lobo, one of them looked at him and said, “Hey, you’re that rodeo guy who got crunched.”
Tucker winced inwardly but kept his tone even. “That’s one way to put it.”
“That had to hurt. Does it still?”
“Not much.”
A sort of glint came into the kid’s eyes, something that made him think again of Emily’s assessment. Cocky and smart-ass he could see. He just hoped she was right about the not aggressive part. Not so much for his own sake, but the kid’s, with Lobo right here.
“What if somebody punches you there?” he said, gesturing at Tucker’s chest.
“Then he probably breaks his hand.” At the kid’s startled look he added, “Thinking of trying?”
“No, man. I just… Why would his hand break?”
“Titanium ribs.”
The boy’s brows shot upward. He looked from Tucker’s chest back to his face. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
The entire attitude of all three kids seemed to have shifted. “That’s cool,” one of the others said.
“You’re like…Titanium Man,” said the third.
He decided to go with the new flow. “Hey, somebody’s got to step up, now that Iron Man’s gone.”
When the trio, all still grinning, walked away, he risked a look at Emily. She was smiling almost as much as the kids were. “Nicely done.”
He shrugged. Reached down and gave Lobo a scratch behind the ears. “I figured I had backup if I needed it.”
“You didn’t need it. And he knew it, so he just watched.”
“What if I had? There were three of them.”
She never hesitated. “Lobo’d have taken one. I’d have taken number two. And the little guy probably would have run.”
As he’d suspected, she’d had it all planned out in her head. “Is…everything like that? You plan out what you’d do, if?”
She shrugged this time. “I call it ‘just in case’ mode.” He didn’t think his expression changed, but she went on. “Think of it like driving. You’ve always got to be aware of other drivers, and what you’ll do if they do something stupid.”
Somehow when she put it like that, it seemed less forbidding. More reasonable.
Less worrying.
He nodded slowly, pondering.
“Lobo!”
He turned his head to see a clearly delighted Jeremy, running toward them as he stuffed a paper into his small backpack. The dog took a step forward, ears up and tail wagging happily.
“I see we’ve been put in our proper place,” Emily said, and when he glanced at her she was grinning, looking as pleased as Jeremy did.
“Yep,” he agreed cheerfully. “Behind anything with four legs in the pecking order.”
“He’s a great kid.” Her golden eyes were warm and approving. “Worth what his father did.”
And once more Tucker had no words for what she made him feel.