Roped Tight (Ryker Ranch #4) - Kim Loraine Page 0,21

this up quite yet."

He pushed off the wall of the barn and started his slow walk away, tossing over his shoulder, “Supper’s at six, in the main house. Sandy made us put all three leaves in the table, so you tell those boys to get themselves cleaned up in their Sunday best."

"Yes, sir." I watched him walk away, and all I could think about was how Sam was doing. He worshiped his dad. They all worshiped their dad. The thought of possibly losing him had hurt. I hoped he had someone he could talk to about it. I'd shut the door on that forever, but the minute Sam started talking like maybe he didn't want to go, that maybe he shouldn't keep up the bull riding, I knew I had to stop what we’d put into motion. I wasn't here to fall in love with Sam Ryker, or maybe I wasn't here for him to fall in love with me. Because I was pretty sure I fell hard for him the moment I hauled him out of that bar and into the alley.

“Shit,” I muttered as my throat tightened and goddamn tears made their way to my eyes.

I was in love with Sam Ryker, and because of that, I had to let him go.

Dressed in my best jeans and cleanest shirt, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. How was I going to face him? I couldn’t miss supper. Not when Mama had made something special for all of us. But, shit, I didn’t know if I could sit there with Sam in the same room, remembering what he tasted like, what he sounded like when he came.

“It’s now or never,” I whispered before turning on the faucet and splashing the cold water on my face, desperate to cool down.

Tired of fighting with myself. I realized I was going to have to talk to Sam if I was ever going to be able to do my job without being distracted by him again.

The main house was bustling, filled with the sounds of laughter, the clinking of cups and knives and forks on plates. I was late. Hanging my hat from one of the spare racks they’d brought out for this occasion, I stood in the kitchen and just listened. This was what family sounded like. It was what it felt like. Because the Rykers embraced all of us. That was obvious from day one for me. It didn't matter if I'd only been there a few months; I might as well have been there a few years. I’d never had that. But I knew these people would treat me like one of their own if I'd let ‘em.

Mama bustled in, her freshly permed hair holding a tight, unnatural curl.

"There you are, Tucker. I hope you don't mind, I didn't hold supper for you. George said you’ve been working late, but I made sure there was enough for you.” She reached for me and gave me a hug. Her small, soft body warmed me in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Thank you, Mrs. Ryker."

She pulled back, holding on to my biceps. A stern look flashed across her face. "None of that now. You call me Mama, just like everybody else here."

I let out a soft laugh. "Okay, Mama."

"Now, there’s beer in the fridge. Or if you want something else, get yourself a glass, and fix it. Then go sit down, and I’ll bring you a plate.”

I snagged a beer, popped the top with the opener attached to the fridge, and made my way into the dining room with my heart in my throat. Maybe I’d be able to make it without seeing Sam, at least without talking to him.

That was wishful thinking talking because, of course, there were two open seats at the long table. One was clearly where Mama sat. The other was…right next to Sam. Fuck.

I braced myself and worked hard to keep my cool. But God, he looked good. He’d combed his dark curls away from his face. It was even neatly parted on his left. The urge to run my hands through those locks and mess them up so there was some part of him that wasn't perfect burned in my blood.

Who was I kidding? I just wanted to touch him. I walked to the empty chair next to him and pulled it out just as Mama strode into the room with a fresh plate in her hands filled with a perfectly done