Page 13 of Wrangled Up (Menage a Trouble #2)

“Davis, heads up!”

Christian braced his forearms on the man-sized hole he’d just dug to lay pipe in and popped his head over the rim. He spotted the excavator rolling toward him and his fellow road workers scattering out of its way.

Locking his muscles, Christian hoisted himself, throwing his upper body across the ground. Then he scrambled up and out of the way.

As he stood at the roadside, covered in crumbles of earth, he watched the equipment straddle the hole and continue on down the road.

He started back to his hole—joining pipes a solid goal in his mind—when a horn blast made him look up .

Traffic was backed up for half a mile on this stretch of single-lane construction, but there weren’t so many cars that he didn’t immediately pick out the old, faded blue one that belonged to Claire’s Aunt Letty.

A grin stretched over his face so far, his cheeks ached. Heat bloomed in his stomach and began a heavy throb in his groin.

Jogging across the road to her, he ducked to smile through her open window.

“Hey, asphalt cowboy. You feeling that barn work this morning as much as I am?” Her hair was pulled back today in a messy knot, the curls a riot of dark springs.

“Yessum.” He tipped his hard hat into his hands and cradled it before him. This morning, they’d met in the barn at first light in order to muck out as many stalls as possible before he had to come to work.

She chewed on her lower lip then released it with agonizing slowness. He watched each plump bit emerge from her white teeth, his heart a wild staccato. His gaze locked onto the wetness on that luscious, pink lip.

“You got to go back to bed?” He’d tucked her exhausted form into her car after their hard work and sent her home, hoping she’d crawl back into bed before her own shift at the diner. Only one of them was going to be completely dead on their feet, if he had his way.

“Nah. I ended up eating a big breakfast Letty cooked me and helping her around the house.”

Golden sun danced over her face and illuminated one eye. For an instant, his breath caught. He studied the depths of that dark iris and each amber ray extending from the fathomless pupil.

She blinked and shifted so she was in his shadow. “Well, cowboy, the line’s moving. I’ve gotta roll along now.”

He reached in and squeezed her hand. They hadn’t made love since that night in the truck, but there was nothing uneasy about their relationship.

He looked forward to getting out of bed before dawn every day just to see her in tight jeans and mud boots, sleeves rolled to the elbow as she shoveled alongside him.

“See you for the evening watering.” He tapped her door twice, and she let off the brake, inching forward even as her gaze clung to his .

When she had to twist her head to continue to look at him, she finally faced the road and drove off.

Christian shoved his hat onto his head and trotted toward his hole again. Distracted, this time. God, that prim white collar of her uniform dress against her throat roused images of him nudging it down with his jaw to gain access to her savory skin.

A slap on his shoulder made him jerk from his reverie.

Tommy Newlin grinned at him. Mud was streaked from his hairline to his jaw, as if he’d recently wiped away sweat and left behind the residue. “You got it bad for that girl, Davis.”

Christian gave him a quizzical smile. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“That little Curlilocks in the Buick. You’re head over steel toes for her.” The widower stared at Christian knowingly, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“No idea what you’re talking about. We’ve been working together on the Langley Ranch. That’s all.” He accepted a shovel from another worker with a nod .

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that story before. Seems to me I lived it. A teen working at a fast food restaurant with a certain girl I couldn’t take my eyes off.”

“How’d that end?”

“Married her.” Tommy’s expression darkened, though he held his smile. His wife had died a few years ago after an extended illness. Christian had never asked many questions, but now he wondered if he should, for Tucker’s sake. How long did it take to move on after a man lost the love of his life?

Christian peered at Tommy, a half smile on his face in response to his friend’s.

“When they turn their heads to keep looking at you, you don’t let them go, Davis. Now get your mangy ass back into that hole. Clock’s tickin’.”

After two chili dogs, a big soda and a grueling nine hours on the road crew, Christian headed to the ranch. As he wound through the hills and valleys that led from town to Tucker’s land, he thought of Claire and what Tommy had said.

What did she feel for him, if anything? Maybe it’s time to find out .

On autopilot, he navigated the road that ran along the creek for a mile before it spilled onto Tucker’s land. Every wisp of a smile Claire had ever graced him with lined up in his head until there were dozens. Evidence that Tommy may be right?

A dark voice in the back of Christian’s head whispered that it was Tucker she loved—Tucker was the reason she was helping with the animals.

Then why have I collected so many of her smiles?

He drew his big soda cup to his lips and slurped the last through the straw. By the time he reached the ranch, he had gained a bit of self-confidence.

What could Tucker offer that Christian couldn’t? Yeah, Tucker had tons of land, a house, and obviously money wasn’t tight, if the pristine state of the outbuildings were indications. But Christian had a place to live, a steady income and more where that came from thanks to his trimming business.

He had humor and an easy-going nature that always had drawn women to him. But would it be enough to draw Claire to him? Did he want to ?

Losing Tucker’s friendship wasn’t an option. Hell, Christian had long ago admitted to himself that he loved the man. Trouble was, he was starting to love Tucker’s woman too.

Clamping his fingers on the steering wheel, he squeezed until his muscles shook. Barely harnessed energy and excitement roiled through his system, snapping in his senses.

Drawing a deep gulp of the country air streaming through his truck window, he cut the engine and climbed out. He looked to the sky for an estimation of the time. In a little while Claire would bump up the drive. If he got up enough courage, he would soon find out how serious she was about him.

What if she told him “thanks but no thanks”?

No time to think of that. He needed a shower and there were a few chores he needed to see to before she arrived. Hard work—heavy lifting he didn’t want her to attempt to help him with.

He stretched his arms overhead to work out the kinks in his back. Christ, this double physical labor was catching up to him. If he had the opportunity to take Claire to bed again, he’d likely fall asleep .

Grabbing a sledgehammer and a length of fence stile he’d cut that morning, he headed up the hill.

Yesterday a couple of the horses had been spooked by a coyote and stampeded the fence, knocking down the electric wire and breaking free.

Christian had managed to get them corralled into another paddock, only after having run his ass off for an hour.

As he passed the paddock, he noted the escaped horse stood against the far fence, away from the others. “Make friends now,” he called. The horse’s tail flicked, arched high.

At the top of the hill, Christian crouched to check the power box for the electric fence. He’d turned it off last night, but he couldn’t be too careful about getting thrown on his ass by 5000 volts.

Next time the horses had the choice between a coyote or a wire surging with power, they might think twice about busting through it. That horse had limped all over the fields before Christian had caught it. After watching it carefully, he saw the horse no longer favored its leg.

From sun up to sun down, Christian was breaking his back with work. He almost wished for some really foul weather so he could have another day off from the road crew. Still, the ranch duties never ceased.

He tugged his gloves out of his back pocket and grabbed the fence gingerly. When he didn’t piss down his leg, he set about disconnecting the wires from the broken stile. A few twists of the screwdriver freed the wires. Then he set about replacing the post.

A dull ache between his shoulder blades distracted him. As soon as he finished this chore, a scalding shower had his name on it. Standing under a hot spray for half an hour sounded like the most decadent pleasure right now.

He squinted at the sun. Nope—no time to dawdle in that shower. Claire would be coming up the gravel drive soon.

Shivers started in his core, excitement building. He tapped the top of the post with the sledge, watching the base disappear into the rich, loamy earth.

The tamp of hooves brought his head up from his task. Two horses, black-and-white speckled beasts with manes flying, galloped past him in the fenced-in area beside the one where he worked .

For a moment, Christian watched their display of strength and grace. Wishing he had someone to share this with. His muscles were screaming with exhaustion, but the crisp, grass-scented breeze was in his face.

Tucker was out there running the prairie like a wild mustang too, tamed by no one. It should anger Christian more that he was left to do his friend’s dirty work. But if he were here, Christian wouldn’t have gotten a chance to know Claire.

All those smiles .

The grinding noise of tires on gravel made his heart freeze, flip and fly out of control. With quick movements, he compressed the earth around the post with his boot then reconnected the wires.

By the time he switched on the power, Claire was wandering the grounds, looking for him. “Christian!” Her melodic voice drifted to him on the wind.

With a shake of his head, he wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky this time.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Davis. You don’t know how she feels yet .