“Thanks.” Micah took the rag and wiped his mouth before laying his head on the arm that rested on the rim of the pot. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t eaten anything to throw up.” His other hand pressed against his chest again.
Tucker brushed the dark hair off Micah’s pale forehead and saw the blood in the toilet. “Oh God.” His chest squeezed tight and the hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose. “Come on, baby. Get up from there, you’re going to the hospital.”
Chapter Three
“Oh God, he’s leaving.” Micah dropped the curtain and dove for his pants where they lay strewn at the foot of Tucker’s bed. Fear stabbed at his chest as he hopped around off balance and put them on. Tucker couldn’t be leaving. He couldn’t. After throwing one last glance at the tangled sheets, Micah raced out of Tucker’s bedroom. He flew down the stairs and out the back door as fast as his feet would carry him.
The screen door slammed behind Micah, and Tucker froze with his hand on the back door of his car. Micah’s steps faltered as the gravel stabbed into his bare feet. He walked the rest of the way, stopping two feet from Tucker.
This couldn’t be what it looked like. Tucker wouldn’t leave him now. The sudden slump of Tucker’s shoulders and the fact that he hadn’t turned around yet… No. Micah’s throat closed, refusing to take in air. It was what he imagined swallowing jagged rocks would feel like. Unwilling to believe what logic told him, he shook his head. “Where are you going?” He didn’t even care if Tucker heard the crack in his voice. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Micah…” Tucker shut the door but didn’t turn.
Looking past him, Micah spotted all the bags Tucker had brought home with him, plus some, littering the backseat of his Buick. Tears blurred Micah’s vision and a deep pain flared to life in his chest. Tucker was leaving without even saying goodbye. Micah had thought— No, he wasn’t going to let his mind go there. It didn’t matter now. “Turn around, damn you. Look at me!”
Slowly, Tucker turned. “I have to go back, Micah. I’ve made junior partner. It’s an opportunity I can’t turn down.”
“No! You don’t have to go. You don’t need the job or the money. You can stay here with me.”
Shaking his head, Tucker reached for Micah’s cheek. “I can’t. It’s better this way. You’ll see.”
Micah leaned in to the caress, barely able to focus on Tucker’s face through the tears. “Don’t go,” he begged. “Please don’t leave me. I love you. I can’t—”
“Ah, baby, don’t—”
Something snapped inside Micah. The ache in his heart remained, but anger and a sense of betrayal surfaced, overpowering it. He slapped Tucker’s hand away and stepped out of reach. “Don’t? Don’t what?”
“Shh… You’re going to wake the others.” Tucker moved closer again.
Shame joined the fury. Tucker didn’t want anyone to know about them. He was embarrassed. Micah shook his head, feeling like three kinds of a fool. Tucker was leaving. After the night they’d shared, Micah had naively believed that Tucker would come home for good…come home for Micah. “Why?”
“Because you can do a hell of a lot better than me.”
A laugh that sounded anything but humorous escaped Micah. He glanced at his toes and a tear streaked down his cheek, landing on his bare chest. Tucker had made love to Micah, or so he’d thought, but apparently it had meant nothing to Tucker.
He’d loved Tucker for so long. When he’d shown up last night at Micah’s birthday party, Micah had been ecstatic. Tucker had stayed after everyone had left, and it had given Micah hope. Hope that maybe his fantasy about Tucker waiting until he was eighteen to claim him was true. Micah had stayed up until the rest of the family had retired for the night, and he’d gone to Tucker’s room.
The tears came in earnest now, streaking down Micah’s face. His nose was running. How stupid could he be? He shook his head and sniffed, trying to keep the snot from streaming down his face. Glancing up, he caught Tucker’s worried expression. Or maybe it was pity shadowing his face.
“Good luck with your new job.” With that, Micah turned on his heel and headed back to the house.
“Micah, wait…”
Lifting his head higher, Micah kept going. As he reached the back porch, he heard Tucker’s car door slam and the engine start. Micah didn’t look back. Once he entered the house, he peeked out the curtain covering the back window.
Something squeezed his arm in much the same way the panic seized his chest. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me. The tears clogged his throat as the car drove off in a cloud of dust. An annoying little beep sounded and a smooth, deep voice spoke softly in the distance. Micah couldn’t tell what the voice was saying but it was soothing, easing the almost frantic feeling. Tucker. It sounded like Tucker.
The tightness in his chest diminished the more that voice spoke, until he could take a breath and not feel like someone was strangling him. The rich husky tone brought to mind a cold night with a warm fire and a fifth of whiskey. Oh nice. His lips curved automatically and he snuggled down into the warmth surrounding him. Some Glenlivet would really hit the spot. Too bad the liquor stash at The Bar D was nearly depleted. Well, no, maybe not…lately any alcohol killed his stomach, which really sucked because the past month he could’ve used a good nip at night to lull him to sleep. Come to think of it, this was about as cozy as he’d been in a long time.
A little niggling in the back of his mind said this couldn’t be right. There was always something to worry over, always something to do, or money to figure out, so why was he asleep? He’d gone to talk to Tucker. Micah blinked his eyes open.
The hospital. He’d nearly forgotten about coming to the hospital. It was dim and blurry as hell without his glasses, but there was no mistaking the clinical look of the room and the scent of antiseptic. The blood-pressure cuff released the death grip on his arm and another beep accosted his ears. Mierda, he didn’t have the money for this.
There was a creak that sounded like someone fidgeting in a chair. “I love you too, Granddad.” Tucker paused and his voice hitched a bit. “I’ll do my best.” There was another pause and a long sniff. “Yes, sir, I promise. I’ll make everything right.”
He talked quietly, but Micah thought he heard longing in Tucker’s speech. At that moment, Micah hated himself for being the reason Tucker stayed away. Maybe if he left The Bar D, Tucker would come back. Maybe he’d visit his family. Micah closed his eyes again and took a deep, calming breath. That damned dream. God, he couldn’t believe he still remembered Tucker leaving like it was yesterday. Why did it still hurt so damn much? Even being older and wiser didn’t help. It just added guilt and embarrassment to the equation. He never should have begged Tucker to stay. It wasn’t fair to pressure Tucker, and even though Micah been little more than a kid, it was damn humiliating.
“I’ll see you in two days, okay? Bye, Granddad.”
Micah had to get out of here and away from Tucker. Trying to shake his head into alertness, he snapped his eyes open. Grappling with the cuff on his arm, he edged his feet to the side of the bed and out of the covers. Shame swamped him for needing Tucker’s help with the ranch. If there was any other way… If it weren’t for Jeff and AJ, Micah wouldn’t even ask, but Tucker was their family.
The rip of the Velcro signaled his freedom and cold air nipped at his toes. No way was he going to be able to pay for an extended stay. He refused to ask Tucker for anything that wasn’t ranch related. Unlike most wealthy people, Tucker was generous and didn’t hurt people with his money or try to get his way with it, but Micah would rather die than ask Tucker to help him. It was bad enough he had to have the endoscopy to make sure the bleeding wasn’t dire. He’d find the money somewhere, but it was an outpatient procedure, right? What was another couple thousand? He’d find a way…
A hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him back to the mattress.
Micah turned his head and looked right into Tucker’s dark eyes. Every
thing just stopped. Micah couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think and certainly couldn’t talk. He froze with one leg dangling off the bed and a hand on the rail to help push himself up. Here he was flat on his back—and damn his stomach ached—he was groggy and needing to get out of here, but the sight of Tucker, even fuzzy as it was, hit him just as hard as it had when he’d seen Tucker again after all those years apart. Why couldn’t he get this man out of his head? He’d thought he’d be immune to Tucker now that he’d grown up, but he wasn’t. Seeing Tucker and that damn dream had proved it. Why was Tucker still the most gorgeous man he’d ever laid eyes on?
“Slow down, Hopalong.” Tucker released Micah’s shoulder and tucked his foot back under the covers. Twining his fingers with Micah’s, he made Micah release the death grip on the bedrail. He didn’t, however, release Micah’s hand. “Where’d you think you were going?” He smirked and one sandy brow arched in question.
“Outta here. I can’t afford—”
“Don’t start. I don’t think the nurses would take too kindly to me bending you over my knee. The bleeding wasn’t bad, but you’re stuck here for the next twenty-four hours at least. And I’m paying the hospital bill.” Letting go of Micah’s hand, Tucker sat in a chair next to the bed and gave Micah a stern, no-nonsense look that brooked no argument.
It irritated the piss outta Micah. Heat rushed into his neck and face. He was not the same doting kid who hung on Tucker’s every word and did whatever Tucker said. Micah was a grown man with responsibilities and— He groaned. “Damn it. I didn’t call home. And where the hell are my glasses? I can’t see a goddamned thing.”
“I’ve already called The Bar D.” Tucker pulled Micah’s glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on Micah’s face. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his long legs out in front of him.
Now that he could see clearly, Micah studied Tucker again.
The streetlamp light coming in from the open curtain haloed him, casting a silhouette on his face. Tucker’s square jaw was nearly always covered with a heavy five o’clock shadow. It had constantly amazed Micah that anyone with strawberry blond hair could have such a dark beard. More than once Micah had coveted the memory of how those prickly whiskers felt on his skin.
“I talked to my granddad.” Resting his head on the back of the chair, Tucker closed his eyes.
What could Micah say to that? He’d heard. “Was he having a good day?” Micah fought the urge to reach out to Tucker by burying his hands under the blanket.
“Yeah.” Smiling, Tucker nodded slightly but his eyes remained closed. He looked almost fragile, making Micah want to turn away and give him a moment, but he didn’t. It was a rare thing to see cracks in Tucker’s armor. Hell, if Micah hadn’t seen it, he’d have said Tucker didn’t have any. Funny, he seemed so vulnerable, yet his wide shoulders swallowed up the small space in the private hospital room, attesting to his power as nothing else could.
Tucker’s silent strength had always made Micah feel secure and protected. Maybe that’s why he’d come to get Tucker’s help. For as long as Micah could remember, Tucker had been able to carry the world on his shoulders so effortlessly. Micah almost resented him for it. Tucker didn’t let himself be bogged down with normal wants and needs. He could go off on his own and make a fortune without missing his family…without missing Micah. And wasn’t that a slap to the face? Micah wanted so badly to scream and yell and tell Tucker he hated him.
He was supposed to be helping ensure they would keep The Bar D, and here he was mooning over a man he could never have and racking up more bills. Micah closed his eyes. A private room. The hospital bill was going to be outrageous. No way in hell was he not paying Tucker back though.
“He told me you needed me.”
“What?” Snapping his eyes open, Micah met Tucker’s gaze. “You told him I was in the hospital?”
“No, AJ and Dad threatened to strangle me if I did.” Tucker stood, leaning his forearms on the bedrail and looking down at Micah. He shrugged. “I’m not sure what he meant. Maybe he suspects something?”
Frowning, Micah wished Tucker would sit. He was too big, too imposing, too desirable and way too damn close. “He does know something. He knows how bad the debt is. I guess it’s his way of reminding you where you belong and asking for help. He’s been asking for you.”
Tracing fingers along Micah’s cheek, Tucker followed the caress with his gaze. “Maybe.” He nodded. “Probably.”
A tingly feeling started in Micah’s stomach and spread outward. His cock even stirred and the stupid beeping got faster. Heat rushed to Micah’s cheeks and he jerked his head away. “Have you looked over the will?”
“I did. You’re right, it reads like the marriage condition is only applicable to me, my dad and AJ. Duncan isn’t named in that part, which could be bad, because as the oldest he could contest it. I’ve got a lawyer looking at it.” He sat in his chair and stretched out with his hands over his stomach. “Why haven’t you come to me before now?”
“Because I was handling it just—”
“Oh really?” Tucker arched one arrogant brow. “You can’t even take care of yourself.”
“You’re an asshole.” Micah wasn’t a fucking kid anymore. Tucker had no right. He hadn’t even been around. Micah was doing the work Tucker had been born to do—he was Jeff’s oldest child—so how dare he judge. Tucker had no idea how lucky he was to still have his birthright. Micah gritted his teeth. The high from the anesthesia was definitely wearing off, but his anger kept the pain away.
“Yes, I am. And since you already think that, maybe it’s a good time to tell you what I’ve decided to do about the will.”
A chill raced up Micah’s spine at the cool, almost dead tone in which Tucker spoke. Oh yeah, the meds were definitely wearing off. “What?”
“We’re going to get married before we go back to the ranch.”
Chapter Four
With a sinking feeling, Tucker glanced at the marriage license where it lay on the dash of the car. This had seemed like such a good idea when he’d thought of it. It would keep the ranch in the family without having to result to contesting the will…theoretically. Micah had said that his dad and AJ weren’t seeing anyone, and Tucker wasn’t about to marry just anyone, so this appeared to be the perfect solution. Hell, who was he kidding? Not a lot of thought went into the decision, which was a rare thing. He didn’t usually just react without weighing the consequences.
As Tucker exited the highway, he stole a glance at Micah, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Tucker could practically feel that Latino temper about to flare to life again.
Micah hadn’t said two words since yesterday, not since they spoke their wedding vows. Even then, the words were forced out through gritted teeth with a glare that would have scared a lesser man. Oh well, Micah belonged to Tucker for now, like it or not. He’d known Micah would agree, even if he were less than pleased, if it kept them from contesting the will and going against Ferguson’s wishes. At this point, Tucker didn’t really care what the little shit wanted. Micah had been working himself to death and this was the one sure way to make him stop. No matter if Tucker had to fight him tooth and nail. He couldn’t live with himself if he let things go on this way. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
Tucker repressed the urge to grind his teeth together and shake the shit out of Micah. One thing was for certain, Micah’s attitude kept Tucker at arm’s length. Tucker was grateful but also sad. Had Micah always been this disagreeable? No, Tucker knew he hadn’t. Once upon a time Micah was all smiles and hung on Tucker’s every word. He missed it. Okay, maybe the adoring agreement was a bit much—Tucker kind of liked the new independent streak—but Tucker wanted to see that smile again. No. No, he didn’t. This surly Micah was much easier on Tucker’s conscience. He could concentrate on fixing things for his family and getting the hell outta Dodge. “No pain?”
“No.” Micah continued to lean back in the seat with his eyes closed.<
br />
“Tell me about your ideas for the ranch.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Goddamn it, Micah.” They used to get along so well they didn’t need to talk to communicate with one another. Tucker had never experienced that with anyone else, including AJ. “It does matter. I didn’t marry you so I can just throw away money on the ranch. I want it profitable again. I want to make sure you, Dad, AJ and Juan have a home and an income. Y’all need to be happy with it, so I need your input.”
“What? What does that mean? You’re just gonna get things back on track for us and split? Yep, that sounds about right. You’re abandoning us again.” Micah sounded amused, which grated on Tucker’s nerves even more.
“Micah…” Tucker groaned. “I’m not abandoning y’all. I never abandoned y’all.” He’d had to leave. Couldn’t Micah see Tucker had given him a chance to grow up and become his own man? “I have a life and career in Dallas. I can’t just move back out to the ranch and pretend otherwise.” He’d never be able to keep his hands off Micah if he did. Nothing had changed. Even if Micah would forgive him—which wasn’t likely given the hostility he’d shown the last few days—he was still better off without Tucker. “I did things this way to make sure that the ranch stays with who it should. It’s not as if I could just ask my granddad to change his will. You said yourself it’s only a matter of time until—” Tucker’s throat grew tight, making him have to swallow. Jesus, he just wanted to turn around, go back home and forget everything. “Until we lose him. This way we have things secured. The ranch will be put in my name. I’ll pay the inheritance tax on it and lend the ranch money to get it going again. So humor me, what is it y’all think will make the ranch solvent? I expect to make a profit too, but I’m not going to be here to run things, y’all are.”
His Convenient Husband Page 3
