Leaning against the door, still warm from the late afternoon sun, he clamped the bat under his arm. “That’s a broad statement from someone who doesn’t even know me.”
“Yeah, well, I see the way you’re looking at me, and it’s no different from yourfriend.” She dropped her gaze. “I thought he was the real thing.”
Christian scuffed a boot against the gravel and looked away.Yeah, he does that to a lot of us.
Still, he’d like to believe he wasn’t as much of a hound as Tucker. And besides, this girl couldn’t very well run around looking likethatand expect a red-blooded male to be immune.
A pickup bumped into the parking lot, spraying gravel and dust around them. Christian stole another look at the girl’s face. “Your name?” When she hesitated, he said, “So I can at least give you credit for your handiwork.”
Pivoting away, she started across the lot.
“Hey!”
“It’s Claire,” she tossed over her shoulder.
He watched her ass wiggle off, fighting the heavy ache in his groin. “Claire, you want your bat?”
“Give it to your friend as a souvenir.” With that, she yanked open the door of a midsize car that looked as if it belonged to an elderly person. The driver peeled out of the parking lot and lay rubber on the highway.
With a half sigh, half laugh, he tossed the bat into the truck bed and climbed behind the wheel.
Shaking his head, Christian pulled out and headed straight for the Quickie Mart. Two chili cheese dogs were in order. He wasn’t about to face an irate best friend on an empty stomach. And after shoveling gravel for eight solid hours on the road crew, he was starved.
Gathering up his dogs and a giant soda, he turned the truck back toward Tucker’s ranch. As he passed the wide open fields and the blue smudge of mountains on the horizon, all he could see were Claire’s eyes, bright with anger. Swimming with tears.
“Man,” he murmured and cranked the wheel to avoid two human-sized potholes in front of the driveway leading to the ranch.
As he bumped up the lane, he horked down the second chili dog and slurped the remainder of the soda. Tucker was gonna be pissed. Not only had he returned his truck with three thousand dollars’ worth of damage, he’d left The Hellion without the six-pack.
Dammit, he couldn’t help but think Tucker deserved it.
Leaving his trash for his friend to take care of, Christian mounted the three solid wood porch steps to the front door. The ranch was picturesque against the satiny blue sky. Dark wood with real working shutters and a glass door, the old homestead of the Langley family had been restored by Tucker’s own hand. He’d spilled a lot of blood and sweat on this land, making his ranch one of the finest horse farms in the county.
Christian pushed open the door and clomped across the mudroom. In the living area, Tucker was kicked back in the recliner with the remote in hand.
Christian’s cock stirred at the sight of his friend in this position. How many times had they sat in this same space, watching porn and jacking off together?
For two years, they’d been enjoying this intimacy. Watching, urging on the other. But their rule was hands off, and Christian wanted nothing more than to jump that gap from friends fucking around to more.
He was work boots over hard hat in love with this guy.
Tucker met his gaze. The shoulder-length hair that Christian longed to run his hands through covered one smoldering eye. “Got the beer? I’ve got the movie.”
Christian’s cock reacted instantly, stretching, battering his fly. Last night they’d shared a woman, not a self-love session. Actually, Tucker hadn’t participated, just stood at the bedside with his cock in his fist, watching Christian love on the woman. And now that he thought of it, he realized this was most likely the reason for Claire’s fury.
The scent of pine woods and strong coffee filled Christian’s head as he drew a deep breath. He sank to the edge of the couch. “Not exactly.”
“What’s that mean? You get the beer or not?”
Christian raked his fingers through his short hair. “I paid for it but left without it.”
Confusion creased Tucker’s brow. “Not followin’, friend.”
Plow on.“I ran into someone at The Hellion.”
“Yeah?” That rough, drink-nails-for-breakfast voice ripped through Christian’s senses. The same voice drove him wild as Tucker pumped out his pleasure.
“Yeah, a hot little number by the name of Claire.” He drew her name out on his tongue, testing its flavor. Hell, it even tasted like her. Decadent with a hint of quirkiness.
