07 It Had to Be You Read online

  Eddie and Tucker stood there gaping. “Why are you kissing Cal?” Eddie demanded.

  Stone smiled at Callie. “Because she’s pretty damn cool.”

  “Oh.” Eddie blinked. “Well, I want to kiss her, too.”

  Tucker shoved him, then came closer. “What’s going on?”

  Stone looked at Callie, his heart in his eyes. He didn’t want them to know, and she wouldn’t be the one to tell them. “He was showing me cow resuscitation techniques,” she said primly. “And he’ll be happy to show either of you, as well. But hurry, because we’ve got to get these college studs out on the trail if we want to get there before dark.”

  Tucker stared at her for a long moment, then at Stone, but he didn’t say another word while they saddled up the horses. A little bit later, Jake met them outside, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. “You’re going?” he asked, reaching out to help her lift a saddle.

  “Don’t.” She shouldered him away. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  He pulled back with the irritated look of a man used to taking over, used to being in charge, a man who kept forgetting he no longer could do that. “The weather is going to turn bad.”

  She glanced at the admittedly cloudy sky and shrugged. “That’s part of the life out here.”

  “No, I mean really bad.”

  She strapped on the saddle. “How do you know?”

  “My ribs hurt.”

  Her fingers went still on the horse. “I didn’t know you’d hurt your ribs in your fall.”

  “Not that fall. I broke four of them in another fire, several years ago.”

  “Rescuing someone?”

  “A staircase gave way while I was trying to get to a woman on the floor beneath me.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I got her out.”

  “With four broken ribs?”

  “And a gash on my head.” He put his finger on the inch long scar above his left eye. “There’s a storm coming, and it’s going to be a wet one. Trust me.”

  “We can’t cancel, the guys are too excited. And anyway, a little rain never bothered me.”

  “Thought you’d say that.” He squinted at the sky, then sighed grimly. “I’m coming, too.”

  “Fond of getting rained on, are you?”

  “No. I’m fond of you.” And upon delivering that shocking statement, he walked away, calling out to Eddie to say they needed one more horse.

  Fine. Who was she to argue with the man? But she stepped close to Sierra and hugged her, needing the contact. “He’s fond of me, damn it.”

  Tucker had just finished packing up the horses when he saw Amy walking toward him with a bag in her arms. Her dark hair glinted in the sun. She wasn’t smiling, but he found himself wanting to at just the sight of her.

  He’d never had much of a problem in the female department, but this woman was different, and though extremely resistant, he couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted to know her more.

  “Here’s the last bag. I added some popcorn for the bonfire tonight,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He took the bag, touching her fingers with his as he did. He took it as a good sign when she didn’t jerk away or slam him to the ground. “I’ve got all your directions.” He patted his pocket. “You didn’t ask me to make the carrots pretty or anything, right?”

  “Not this time. But you do have to be careful with the chili—”

  “I can handle it.” Probably. “Trust me.”

  She just looked at him, and it was the oddest thing, but just looking right back at her somehow broke his heart. There was just something about her, something about her eyes, her tough attitude and soft center. He really did want to know her, and he had to say, it was unusual not to have that feeling returned.

  She wore her black jeans and boots again. When she’d first come to the ranch, he’d figured they were all she owned, since she’d had only a small duffel bag. But she’d had a few paychecks now, and could have bought herself something else if she’d wanted. Maybe she was saving for a rainy day.

  She leaned in past him and inspected the way he’d packed everything. Her hair fell forward, revealing the sweet spot on the back of her neck. She had a small tattoo of the sun there, and he winced as he reached out and touched it.

  She jerked as if she’d been shot, and whipped around.

  “Sorry.” He lifted his hand in the air. “I was just thinking how that must have hurt on such a tender spot.”

  She put her hand to the back of her neck. “It was a long time ago.”

  “It’s pretty. It is,” he said when she arched a brow. “You are.”

  Now she let out one bark of a laugh and turned to leave.

  He moved in front of her. “So how long ago could it have been? You’re only…what, eighteen?”

  “Six years.”

  “Jesus.” He whistled softly. “What kind of a mother let her daughter get a tattoo at twelve?”

  “The dead kind.”

  Ah, man. He was an idiot. An idiot with a big old boot in his mouth.

  She started adjusting the pack on the horse, even though they both knew he’d done a fine job. “Don’t say you’re sorry,” she said when he opened his mouth. “I was just a baby when she died. I never knew her.”

  “Who raised you?”

  “My dad.” She shrugged and shifted some of the food around. “Sort of.”

  He put a hand over hers. “Sort of?”

  “He wasn’t around all that much.”

  “And now?”

  “And now…he’s still not around that much.” She pulled her hand from his and put the horse between them. “He’s a trucker.”

  An angry one, Tucker guessed, and very carefully he stepped around the horse and closer to Amy. “It must have been rough for you without a mom.”

  “Stop it.” She moved back a step, her breathing coming out a little too quick. “I don’t want your pity.”

  “It’s not pity I’m feeling.”

  She searched his expression with a scowl, and he purposely put an easy smile on his face when what he really wanted to do was touch her. Hug her. But she was on the edge of panic over revealing too much, over his nearness, pick one. “Going to miss me while I’m gone?”

  She gaped at him as if he were crazy.

  He offered her a hopeful smile.

  She shook her head, but if he wasn’t mistaken, suddenly there was a small little sparkle of good humor lurking in her dark eyes.

  “I’m not that bad of a guy, Amy. Maybe you could even give me a try sometime.”

  She looked at him for a long, long moment. “Maybe.” And with that shocking word, she turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her.

  “See you when I get back!” he called out.

  Without looking back, she lifted a hand as if to say yeah, yeah, whatever, but still, a hopeful grin split his face.

  They rode all day. The Dragoons were a maze of yawning crevices, abrupt precipices, and granite spires. Boulders the size of the ranch’s barn were balanced with smaller rocks, sprinkled across steep hillsides from which deer, raptors, snakes, and coyotes made their home. On the valley floor lay wheaten grasslands, dotted with bush and huge oaks wide enough to conceal whole packs of coyotes.

  Above them the skies churned and burned, going from blue to slate, and then nearly black, but not a drop fell. If it had started to rain, Callie might have been able to turn them back, but the guys were into it, and she had to admit, it felt good to ride.

  By noon, seven of the eight Washington State students had hit on her.

  She took each come-on in the same manner, that is, with great amusement. Smithy was the most aggressive one, the twenty-one-year-old basketball star and all-around God’s gift to women—just ask him. He didn’t like being turned down, and afterward, when Callie had said no to him—twice—he made a point of riding the fastest and being the most outrageous. He pretty much toed the line on everything they did, leaving her with the urge to t