Tucker's Crossing (37 page)

“Sam.”

“Cody.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “A kid disappearing is a serious thing. Glad we found him.”

“Me too. And, thanks.” Awkward silence passed. “For coming out.”

“No, son. Thank you.” Sam’s voice grew gruff and Cody, for the first time in probably his whole life, really saw Sam. His childhood hero was just a man trying to do the right thing the best he knew how. “Keeping me on the insurance . . . Well, Emily would be in a bad way without those shots. Not many men would have done what you did for my family.”

Cody shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”

“No, it’s more than that. Doing the right thing is like going to church, you’re obligated. You did it because you care. You’re ten times the man your father was and don’t let anyone tell you different. Including yourself, you hear me?”

Without giving Cody time to respond, not that he could have spoken a word, Sam turned his appaloosa and headed off toward the ranch. After collecting himself, Cody thanked Logan and the other men, sending the hands back to their bunks and giving them tomorrow off. Then, swinging up behind JT, he wrapped a blanket around his little frame and pulled him close.

I love you, partner.

The ride back was slow-going, JT talking the entire three miles. That was one way he was different from Cody and his brothers. His kid was a talker.

They rounded the last bend and the house came into sight. JT suddenly went quiet, his body going limp and leaden with sleep. He even released the occasional snore, which was funny because Cody had heard JT snore, and it sounded nothing like the cartoon log-sawing that was taking place.

But when Cody saw Shelby, backlit by the porch lights and pacing the deck, he told himself the kid was smart. If Cody had his choice, he’d probably play dead too.

Seeing them, Shelby raced down the steps and across the gravel drive, gripping at her heart while tears spilled down her pretty cheeks. Cody scooped up their possum-playing son and slid to the ground, placing a finger to his lips, gesturing for quiet. And winking to let her in on the ruse.

“He’s all right,” Cody soothed, adjusting JT higher on his shoulder, so he had a free arm to pull Shelby close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered against her hair. “Cold and dirty but just fine.”

Shelby nodded and Cody didn’t think she could have spoken even if she’d wanted to. With JT in one arm, and the other tightly wound around Shelby’s shoulder, he told Dylan to take care of the horses and took his family inside.

The sun was rising over the hills, settling into the morning and casting a golden haze across the endless plains and valleys that encompassed Tucker land. Cody had spent the past ten years looking so far forward, he never had the chance to look back, face his childhood and embrace the painful past.

But today, staring out over Tucker’s Crossing, the land that his family had worked for over a century, wearing shit kickers, a Stetson, and a stupid-ass grin, Cody knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be. And that suffocating feeling, the one that lived in his chest and made standing still impossible, was fading.

In its place was a calming warmth, a feeling of fullness that was neither constricting nor uncomfortable, but perfect in its simplicity. Cody was a Tucker and this land was his future, his home. And inside, naked in his bed, was sleeping the woman he intended to make that home and future with.

Needing to saddle up a horse and feel the wind at his face, Cody made his way to the tack room, grabbed his saddle off the hitching post and was snagging himself a bridle when the door slammed shut, followed by the sound of wood sliding through metal.

“Hey, I’m in here,” Cody shouted as he stalked to the door and shoved at it. It was locked. “Open up.”

“Not on your life, Cody Tucker!” Luella snapped back. When Shelby called him by his full name it came out sounding like an endearment. With Luella, it was more of a four-letter word.

“Lulu.” Cody slammed his fists against the door, ignoring the splinters lodging themselves deep in his skin. “I don’t have the time or the patience for this today.”

“Well, join the club!” Luella’s voice came out sounding muffled through the thick wooden doors. Her sass came through loud and clear. “I have to vacuum and mop the floors. And I’ve been meaning to bake up some of my corn chowder for the church potluck tonight, with biscuits, the buttermilk ones, and I can’t risk you tossing me out. Blue ribbon or not, people count on my baking.”

“Fine. For today we’ll call truce!”

He didn’t have any intention of firing the woman. She was as much a part of this place as the land and house. Growing up, she’d been one of the best parts. And Noah and Beau would just have to understand.

Cody waited for her to answer, for her to remove the shovel or rake or whatever she’d used to barricade the doors and let him out. All he got was silence.

“Lulu? You hear what I said? You open the door and I swear I won’t ever bring up firing you again.”

Silence.

“Luella?”

“Um . . . hey, boss,” a guilty voice said from the other side of the door. “Ms. Luella’s gone.”

“Dylan? That you?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you open the door for me?”

“Afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?” Cody tried for calm, but was quickly losing footing.

“Ms. Luella was pretty specific,” the cowhand began. “Said I wasn’t to let you out until she was done in the house.” Was this kid serious? “Promised me some of her pumpkin spice cookies and a pot of fresh chili.”

“Is that so? Well, how about a compromise. You let me out and we go to town and get us some breakfast. My treat.” He could hear Dylan thinking through the door. “I’m starved. Haven’t eaten yet. You wouldn’t keep a man from his breakfast, now would you?”

“No, boss. But Ms. Luella said coffee and some of her muffins were sitting on the workstation. Over by the bridles. She made them this morning, should still be hot.”

Cody found the light switch and flipped it on. And there, next to his collection of hammers and pliers, sat a three-course, Luella-inspired breakfast, including an assortment of muffins, eggs—over easy, pepper no salt, with a dash of hot sauce, just the way he liked them—bacon and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Cody yanked off his hat and threw it across the room. Then he kicked it around some, before taking a seat and tucking into some eggs. No point in wasting a good meal.

“Boss?” Dylan’s voice was unsure and scared as shit. “Am I fired?”

Cody shoved a stick of bacon in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Perfect. “No, Dylan. You’re not fired. Ms. Luella makes a mean pot of chili.”

“That she does,” Dylan admitted, his smile coming through the door. “She scares me a little though.”

“Me too,” Cody chuckled, going after the muffins. “Me too.”

It was late morning and Shelby flopped on her back to stare at the ceiling, so rested and sated, she was convinced that one more minute of Cody-enforced sleep and she might just strangle herself with the sheets.

Sliding off the mattress, giving her sore body a moment to regroup from a day of coordinating and a night of Cody, she stumbled into the shower, her favorite sundress and strappy sandals, and managed to make it to the kitchen, only grimacing three times at her overtaxed muscles. Pretty good, considering.

After greeting Ms. Luella, who was up to her elbows in dough, Shelby went straight for the coffeemaker, poured herself a cup, and had no more than taken her first sip, when the sound of a car pulling up brought her to the front porch. The new-model luxury sedan parked on the gravel gave her pause, but it was the out-of-state plates and polished blond driver that made her sick.

“Now who would be dumb enough to drive that fancy car down a gravel drive?” Ms. Luella asked, sprinkling a fine mist of flour over the top of her dough.

“Get Cody,” Shelby said, setting her cup on the railing.

Shelby made her way down the steps and over to the car, hoping to . . . to what? Stop him before he got out? Send him on his lying, cheating, controlling way?

Dressed in a thousand-dollar shirt and slacks and starched to perfection, Preston stepped out of the car. He hadn’t even gotten the door properly closed when Shelby lit in.

“I made myself more than clear yesterday, I want you to leave now.”

“Got a call from someone at the sheriff’s department last night. Seems you lost our son?”

A sinking feeling started in her chest and worked its way all the way through her body at a nauseating rate. It was the same instinctual alarm that sounded when she’d said “I do.” The same one that nagged when she found all of her credit cards locked in the safe. And the same one that had her packing up and heading to Sweet Plains when she saw him clench his hands while yelling at Jake.

“Because you were messing with his head. And he’s
my
son.”

“Not according to his birth records,” Preston pointed out with an almost eerie confidence.

Shelby’s heart stopped. Preston never showed his cards unless he was certain he held the winning hand. His statement brought back that feeling of being cornered, caged, needing to run but knowing there was no way out.

“Well, he’s fine,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to drive all this way. You could have saved yourself the gas with a call. But thank you for your concern, and I’ll be sure to pass it along to Jake.”
Not.
“And don’t ever contact him again!”

“This is not how I imagined our little reunion.” Preston ran a finger down her arm and Shelby jerked back, his touch making her want to scream out for Cody. How could she have ever married this man?

Preston grabbed her upper arm, bruising the skin shackled beneath his hand. “Still the ice queen, I see. Tell me, Lynn.” The vein in his head jutted out dangerously. “Do you clam up when Cody takes you?”

“Get your hands off of her,” Cody roared from behind, a milli-moment before slamming Preston into the side of his sedan.

Preston groaned, then, lowering his body, rammed Cody in the stomach, knocking him backward into the dirt.

It that moment of anger-laden violence, all of Preston’s jealousy and hate for Cody seeped out, became explosively apparent. Vicious rage tore through all of the manufactured elegance and polish, and the beast that Shelby had somehow sensed lay beneath the charm was unleashed.

Cody rebounded faster than Preston expected, landing a hard blow to Preston’s jaw, the impact snapping his head back.

“Stop it!” Cody heard JT’s little voice shriek from behind, and felt the wobbling words all the way in his soul.

Breath labored, hand cocked, Cody stopped mid-punch and looked up at his son. With tear-spiked lashes, fear-flushed cheeks, he clutched his mama’s hand for all he was worth.

“Stop hurting my dad!”

Cody felt the fury and shame mix, rise up from somewhere down deep. By the time Preston shoved himself up, tossing Cody off, it had morphed into regret. Cody’s eyes found Shelby, giving her a look that he hoped expressed how sorry he was. Her face, sheet-white and paper-blank, gave him nothing but a bad feeling in his gut.

Preston smirked and Cody realized he’d just been played. The bastard had come here to make Cody look like a monster. In front of his own kid. Mission accomplished.

Forgetting everyone but the one who mattered the most right then, Cody squatted in front of JT and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, thankful when he didn’t flinch or cower from Cody’s touch. Because this was it. After today, he would forever be the man who’d wailed on JT’s dad.

“Hey, partner. I’m sorry if I—”

JT launched himself into Cody’s arms, knocking the apology out of him and almost taking them both to the ground. Cody looked at Shelby, at a loss to understand what was going on. She offered him a small, watery smile.

When JT spoke again, the jutted chin and venomous words were directed at Preston. “Don’t you ever hit my dad again!”

My dad.

“I’m okay, partner,” Cody whispered gruffly, tightening his embrace. Standing, he took JT with him, realizing by the way JT’s arms clung to his neck that his son had no intention of letting go. And neither did he.

Cody looked over JT’s head and locked onto Preston. “You have two minutes to clear off my property before I have you removed. And contacting
any
of us would be a mistake.” Though Cody wouldn’t mind removing the bastard himself, he didn’t want to scare JT any more than he already had. Or Shelby.

Shelby.
Cody looked up, not sure what he’d see swimming in those eyes besides tears. And almost shed a few of his own when he stuck out his hand and she didn’t take it. He raised a brow, his voice hoarse with insecurity. “Shelby Lynn?”

“Can you take Jake inside?” was all she said.

“No way, I’m not leaving you here with him.”

“Give Preston and me a minute. Please.”

The smug grin on Preston’s face made Cody want to knock him on his ass. He gave a tight nod, resisted the urge to kiss her and brand her as his, and took his son into the house, trying hard not to notice how Shelby edged toward Preston, how their heads got close, or how their words dropped to a whisper.