Roped Tight (Ryker Ranch #4) - Kim Loraine Page 0,20

And knowing he never wanted more than this only made it hurt worse.

Tucker

A month of trying to stay out of Sam’s orbit was nothing but an exercise in torture. I tried not to look at him. I swear, I tried. But Sam Ryker was like a magnet, drawing me to him. If he was in the vicinity, my focus was on him fully. I didn't want to think about him, dream about him, need to be with him. But there wasn't a moment of the day where he didn't occupy some small space in my thoughts.

The sad part was, he didn't even realize it.

It would be easy to give in to my hunger for him. I’d already spent two weeks alone with Sam giving myself over to my baser instincts.

“God, that boy can ride,” Clint said as he coiled a length of rope before tossing it into the back of his truck.

My gaze followed his to the horse and rider barreling toward the barn, a plume of dust billowing behind him. Sam moved with such fluid grace it seemed like he and that horse were completely in sync.

“Yeah. I haven’t ever seen anyone like him.”

Clint chuckled. “Don’t tell him that. His head’ll get so big we won’t be able to get him through the door.”

I shook my head and let out a soft laugh to disguise the longing I really felt.

All I could think about any time the notion of stealing him away and getting him alone somewhere no one would find us was what his dad had said about Sam being meant for more than a simple life. Sam had been given the ability to do something most people couldn't. And do it well. This career of his could be life-changing for him. And from the look in his eyes when he told me about the call he was gonna have with the sponsor, the prospect before him, I knew he wanted it so bad he could taste it. I wouldn’t be the reason he let it go.

“I’m teaching Tristan the finer points of roping today. Wanna help?” Clint asked.

“Can’t. Gotta get this done. Let me know next time, and I’ll plan around it.”

Grabbing a bale of hay, I hauled it out to the back of my truck. The rope keeping it tied together cut into me even through my leather gloves. The truth was, I didn’t have to do this right now. The hay could wait. But it distracted me from the man I wanted who was off-limits in a big fucking way.

Work always kept me focused. It did what nothing else could and pushed almost every thought of Sam out of my head. Because if I didn't pay attention to my work, I'd end up on the wrong side of a horse and eventually in the hospital—or dead.

It was funny that the only thing that could keep me from being totally distracted was the one thing Sam stood to inherit. The ranch. Except for when he was right there, in the distance, beckoning like a siren without ever saying a word.

I had one bale left when George Ryker called my name as he slowly walked toward my truck. His face was pale, ashen, blind with pain. We all knew he'd been sick. We knew he'd had surgery to remove the cancer in his lungs. But he didn't know we knew. The man was too proud to admit it.

“Hey, boss. What’s going on?”

"Sandy is making a special meal for all you guys tonight. You and Sam especially. You two did a fantastic job on the cabin. Earned me a lot of points."

I chuckled, but honestly, the mention of Sammy made my chest hurt. "So is it going to keep you out of the doghouse for a little while?"

His eyes held a hint of sadness. "It's gonna help. Though, I'm pretty sure I deserve to be in the doghouse this time.” He shook his head. "Do yourself a favor, son, don't keep secrets from people you love. Hurting them isn't worth it."

I went into the barn and grabbed another bale of hay as George surveyed the land around him. “Y’all know I've been sick, don't you?"

I tossed the hay up on the truck, then took a seat on the tailgate. "Yes, sir."

"I just didn't want to worry anyone. Not until there was something to worry about."

"What's the prognosis?"

He sighed. "Hard to tell. But I'm a fighter. Us Rykers are all stubborn assholes. And I'm not ready to give all