Christian pulled up along the fence. A big old porcelain bathtub used as a trough set against the fence. He jumped out and found only a bit of rainwater in the bottom. “I’ll get this,” he started to say, but Claire was already rounding the truck. She climbed into the bed and grabbed the hose they’d use to fill the trough.
As rain soaked them both, he could only think of what he would like to do with her after these chores were finished. Take her inside and run a hot bath for her. Look on as she soaked in the depths and relaxed.
What was it about this little country girl that had so thoroughly worked her way underhis skin? A sharp splinter he’d never felt going in. Now it itched but he never wanted to get rid of it.
With efficient movements, she lowered the hose to him. He fed it through the split rail and into the trough. Then she shoved on the release valve. Water flooded the old bathtub.
Christian threw her a grin over his shoulder, which she returned. But her eyes were hollow.
Damn Tucker for fracturing her.
Five troughs later, they headed back to the house. The water tank was empty. If Tucker didn’t come home tonight, Christian had no idea where to go to fill it again. But he’d worry about that later.
He had to get that spark back into Claire’s eyes. The last time he’d seen it was while discussing Boomerang.
After parking the truck, he climbed out with the intention of opening her door, but she beat him to it. What was he thinking? This wasn’t a date. This was two people who had spent a mind-blowing night in one man’s bed, and were now thrown together out of circumstance.
Christian hadn’t even kissed her.
Without looking back, Claire strode toward the small pen where Boomerang was kept. The animal was drenched, too stupid to get under the shelter it was given. When Claire approached, it trotted up to the fence.
She reached to fondle the strange puff of hair on its crown, a white afro over a curious face. Boomerang blinked at her, unmoving, its mouth shifted to the side in a totally laughable expression.
Claire did laugh. The musical sound washed over Christian, warming his skin against the cold sting of rain. “Get out of the rain, Boomerang,” she said.
When it didn’t move, she hooked a leg over the fence, preparing herself to jump in.
Christian lashed his fingers around her arm. “Is that safe?”
She laughed again. “What’s she going to do? Attack?”
He swung his gaze to the animal, whose tongue now lazed out between its lips. “All right. What do you feed it?”
“I think I see a feed bag in that shed.” She jerked her jaw toward the shelter.
“Okay, I’ll carry some buckets of water for it.” Christian left her to go in search of buckets. When he returned, she’d managed to lure the animal into the shelter with her and had her arms around it. Her face was buried against its side and her shoulders shook.
Christian slowed his step, a stitch in his heart. “God,” he breathed as he set the buckets outside the fence. Bracing one hand on the rail, he vaulted over, easily landing in the mud and slop.
With care, he approached Claire, using his new knowledge of animals. The last thing he wanted was a skittish woman. Hurting her was out of the question.
At the sound of his steps, she raised her head, staring him down, eyes ablaze with tears. “Why can’t those holes be mended, Christian? Why?”
He drew her into his embrace. With her wrapped solidly against his chest, he listened to the fat rain splat on the metal roof of the shed. He had no answers, but she didn’t seem to need them.
* * * **
The first thing Claire did once inside The Hellion was to make a revolution of the bar, tables and dance floor, searching the sea of faces for Allie, the blonde who had spent the night with Tucker and Christian.
A new pang of jealousy smashed into Claire full force. Now that she knew the joys to be had in that bed between two men, she didn’t want to know about another woman having experienced it too.
Hell, Claire still felt that drunken high as the memories assaulted her.
The low country twang of George Jones rushed from the jukebox. Soon the DJ would kick things up and the dance floor would crowd with bodies.
She loved to dance but not tonight. Her heart ached. Two days without Tucker was an eternity. Knowing he was out there somewhere, alone and hurting too, shoved a knife deep in her guts.
I can’t compete with a memory.
