Page 16 of Wrangled Up (Menage a Trouble #2)

Christian lay on the sofa in the space where he and Tucker had shared so many moments, staring at the plaster ceiling. His feet hung off the edge and the blanket had slipped to the floor sometime during the agonizing night.

Agonizing because Claire had slept feet away from him in Tucker’s bed. Last night, she had brought her Aunt Letty and two suitcases. They’d installed Letty in the guest room, which meant Christian got the lumpy sofa.

What he really wanted was to climb into bed with Claire and tuck her body close, to breathe her sweet scent as she slept.

Letty tinkered in the kitchen, obviously grinding coffee and filling the pot. When the scents of something boiling reached Christian, he sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face .

Claire emerged from the bathroom, fresh and bright in jeans and a red top that made her skin glow. Christian’s morning glory strained against his boxer briefs, yearning toward the woman he’d had wet dreams about all night.

“Mornin’, Christian.”

He reached for the first article of clothing he could find—his hat—and jammed it onto his head. Clothes would act as a barrier. Without them, Letty would catch him ravaging her favorite niece.

He cracked a smile at the thought and drawled, “Claire.”

She paused, one foot bouncing. With the urge to come to him? He sure as hell hoped so.

“Letty’s got oatmeal on the stove. Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll have a warm breakfast before heading out to the barn?”

Oatmeal? Nothing more disgusting, in his book. He was a grab-an-energy-bar kind of guy. Then later, he’d hit the Quickie Mart or a fast food joint for lunch.

“All right.” He reached for his jeans and slid his legs into the worn denim .

Claire continued to watch him. When he looked up at her, he found her gaze locked on his groin.

Shocks of want chased through his core. Her gaze snapped up to his and a pink flush coated her cheeks. With a jerky movement, she pivoted toward the kitchen and left Christian alone. Grinning, he dressed and spent a few minutes in the bathroom. Then he joined Claire and her aunt in the kitchen.

Sunlight streamed through the faded cotton curtains covering the window over the sink. The sight of this made Tucker spring to mind. Where was he right now?

When Christian’s step sounded, both women looked up. Letty was a slip of a woman, probably ninety pounds, just as she was ninety years old. Her white curls were worn in a short wreath around her happy face.

“Come on in here, boy, and get some of this good food.” She lifted a pot off the stove. Claire took it from her and spooned some white gruel into three bowls. A fourth bowl was set in the center of the table filled with nuts, raisins and dates. Christian fought to keep from making a face.

“Is that toast up yet?” Letty asked .

“Heard it a second ago.”

“I’ll just butter it.” Christian watched the woman smear a yellow streak of butter across the toasted bread without a care to cholesterol or healthy living.

Christian grabbed a cup of coffee and drew a scalding sip into his mouth, wishing he could make a run for the door and avoid their idea of a good breakfast.

Claire placed his bowl in front of his chair and sank to her own with a smile. “Smells like home, Letty.”

“That’s the point, girl. Can’t have you up here working so hard on nothing more than cold pizza.”

Christian’s stomach clawed at his insides at the mention of pizza.

Smiling, Claire scooped up some raisins, nuts and dates, and spooned them onto her oatmeal. “It’s a nice day. We should get all the horses out into the yard and give them a good bath.”

He struggled to keep from eyeing her. What he wanted was to give her a long, luxurious bath, taking care to soap every delicious inch. When he and Tucker had locked her between their bodies in the shower, it had practically blown his mind. He’d never be the same man.

Letty drifted to the table with a plate piled high with toast. A jar of homemade grape jam set near his elbow. Maybe he could manage toast if he drowned it in jam. He hurriedly took the plate from her and pushed her chair out so she could sit.

Claire beamed at him.

“Loved grooming the horses in my day,” Letty said, spooning up her oatmeal plain.

Christian selected two pieces of toast dripping with butter and spread jam liberally over them. “Never gave a horse a bath, but I’m willing to try. What we need to do first is find the food and water stores.”

“Seems to me there would be a spring around here somewhere,” Letty said. She turned her head to look out the window. “Find the low ground and that’s where your spring will be.”

Claire caught his eye, hers twinkling. She took a big bite of oatmeal and sighed. “Tastes delicious, Letty. ”

The older lady bobbed her head as if it were on a spring. “Soul food. Try yours, young man. Got a whole pot here to stick to your ribs.” Letty reached across the table and squeezed his biceps appreciatively. Claire ducked her head, hiding a grin.

When both women looked away, he spooned a hefty dollop of oatmeal onto his napkin and folded it into a wad. Yes, just like a child, but he didn’t care. If it kept him from having to eat it, he was willing to stoop to immature levels.

He hammered his toast and shoved away from the table. “I’ll just go hunt up that spring so I can fill the water tank. Claire, I’ll meet you in the barn.”

“I’ll let the chickens out first and see to Boom Boom.”

He started toward the door but stopped dead at her words. A smile spread through his gut and rumbled from his chest. “Excuse me?”

She polished off her oatmeal. “I said I’d let the chickens…” Her eyes flared with understanding. “Oh, Boom Boom.”

“I take it that you’re referring to Tucker’s alpaca?” He could barely trap his mirth behind his lips. He couldn’t wait for Tucker to hear her call his animal Boom Boom, like some seedy pole dancer.

He dumped his dishes into the sink and his soggy napkin filled with oatmeal into the trash. On the way out of the kitchen, he lightly squeezed Letty’s shoulder. “Great breakfast, ma’am. Thank you.”

She beamed. “I’ll save this oatmeal for you for later!”

God help me. Catching Claire’s gaze, he winked. Slowly. Suggestively. Getting her up against the barn again was on the top of his to-do list. He took his time letting his gaze travel over the tops of her breasts to the narrow indentation of her waist, then the flare of her hips.

She shuddered.

Satisfied that he could get her as heated as she did him, he gave her another wink and headed outside.

Breakfast had cut into his work time, so he’d have to hurry to catch up. He didn’t want to be stuck out here, slinging manure all day, when he could have Claire beneath him. Could be moving within her .

His sac clenched up tight to his body, his cock aching. His morning erection had never really gone down. Even through the smell of oatmeal, he’d held onto his need. Hell, for Claire he’d eat a big, healthy bite.

He climbed into the old pickup with the water tank in the back and started it. Cruising the ranch for signs of the spring wasn’t something he’d thought to do. Good thing he had a few friends to guide him on this endeavor. Otherwise, Tucker would return home to dead animals and a failing ranch.

Tucker. Where the hell was he? Days without word. Claire was concerned about the food for the horses running out. If he had to, Christian could charge some food and Tucker would pay him back. But what if the man just kept running?

While Claire hid her pain behind a happy facade, Christian knew she was one of those people who smiled through their pain.

Most people didn’t recognize it. But he was aware.

Too aware that her heart was broken and she was leaning on him as a way to cope with her suffering.

If Tucker were to step back into the picture, Christian would be out on his ear .

Or would he? When she looked at him, sparks sizzled between them. Sex was explosive.

He drove past Boomerang’s shed and caught a glimpse of the beast against the fence, long neck stretched to nibble grass on the other side. Again, he cracked up laughing. “Morning, Boom Boom.”

Ten minutes and several passes of the ranch later, he finally spotted a small wooden structure down in a natural dip in the hillside.

He bumped across the grass and stopped beside it.

After jumping out, he crouched to see the thing that looked like a doghouse actually covered a spring bubbling from the ground.

And that smart friend of his had rigged a sort of pump that could be attached to the black hose leading to the water tank. Christian hooked it up swiftly and leaned against the side of the truck, gazing over the land as the tank filled.

Twenty minutes and about five hundred gallons of water later, Christian drove up in front of the house. Claire was out with Boomerang, wielding a big pink brush on the animal’s coat .

“Oh Lord.” He drew up beside her and cranked down the window manually. “Hey, pretty lady. Coming with me to water the stock?”

She flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. His stomach tightened. Something about being in the company of that animal made her let down her guard. While caring for the alpaca, she allowed herself to think about Tucker, to feel and ache for his loss.

“Hey,” Christian rumbled, “get in.”

She carefully speared the pink wire brush on a nail inside the shed and got into the truck without meeting his gaze.

All the time they took care of the horses in the pastures, she didn’t speak.

So by the time they started leading the horses out of the barn one by one and tethering them near the outside hose, he didn’t hold out much hope for that romp against the wall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her lovingly brush out the snarls in a white mare’s mane and tail. He filled a big tub with water and soap then used a big brush to clean the horse in front of him .