Roped Tight (Ryker Ranch #4) - Kim Loraine Page 0,32

mine. "You were good with them today, you know? Patient. Much more patient than me."

“You always have to be patient. You don't know what you don't know. That goes for these guys too. We can't rush them and turn them into real cowboys, but we can teach them slowly, from the ground up, and keep them from getting hurt if at all possible."

His gaze went soft, the affection in his eyes making my chest tighten and swell with anticipation all the same time.

"I know you really stepped up when my dad got so sick. After he died. You and me, we’ve got our differences, our baggage, but I'll never forget what you did for him or the way you helped Buck. I should have been here."

I laid my hand on top of his, forgetting myself for a minute.

"We all lost your dad. The town lost a great man, and you lost a great dad. I was doing whatever you would do. And you, you were just trying to get by."

He jerked his hand away, hissing when he accidentally hit his sore finger. Clearing his throat, he stood. "I think I'll get that ice after all. Good night, Tucker. I'll see you bright and early. "

"Good night, Sam."

As he walked away from me, all I could think about was the man he'd been before he left and the man he'd become. Ten years could do a lot to a person. Sam had lost a lot and gained a lot, but had the change in him been for the better, for the worse?

11

Tucker

I woke up an hour earlier than normal, too keyed up to sleep any longer. Anticipation hummed in my veins. Was it the thought of having to deal with those guys again? Maybe. I thought it was probably more to do with the fact that I was gonna have to face my growing need to be with Sam.

After getting dressed and filling a thermos with coffee, I started my old truck and drove to the ranch. Mama always gave me a hard time about my decision to live in a house that wasn’t on the property, but they wanted to give me a place free of charge, and I wasn't interested in charity. I wanted to earn my keep. So I found a little one-bedroom house on the outskirts of town, as close as possible to the ranch without being on the property. I’d been there almost ten years, and it suited me just fine.

When I pulled up to my usual parking space in front of the bunkhouse, I wasn't surprised to see everything was still dark. Even the sky was dark. But that didn't bother me. There was always work to do no matter where the sun was in the sky, and nothing distracted me better than a long day's work.

Walking into the stable, I came up short when I saw the light on in the tack room. Someone else was awake. It could've been anybody, but I had a feeling I knew exactly who I'd find.

A low grunt of pain followed by a muttered, “Son of a bitch, this fucking thing," had me grinning and feeling guilty all at the same time.

I shouldn't laugh at Sam. I was sure his pinky finger was broken, even if he didn't want to admit it. Opening the door to the tack room, I peered in and found the most frustrating, handsome cowboy I'd ever known. Just as I thought I would. Today he was wearing a dark blue and white checked shirt tucked into tightly fitting Wranglers with black leather boots. He wore one of his big belt buckles, likely because the show's producer wanted to play up the fact that he was a rodeo champion. They'd asked the same of me. His left hand, however, was wrapped in gauze, and he had a metal splint covering his pinky, making everything he did harder, and in some cases, probably impossible.

"Not broken, huh?" I teased.

"Yeah, it's fucking broken. Hazel got me all fixed up. It’ll be two weeks before it’s healed.”

He was trying to clean some tack, but he couldn't quite get the right grip on it with his hand being so unwieldy. "Here, let me help."

I reached for what he was working on, and on instinct, he jerked it away.

Then he whacked his finger on a post that was sticking out for us to hang bridles on. I watched the pain wash over him, watched him grit his teeth and push