Tucker (Texas Rascals Book 5) Read online

  “You were right,” she repeated softly, unaware that he was awake. “I have needs of my own. Needs I can no longer deny. Desperate, blinding needs. Hear me, Tucker? I love you.”

  July Johnson loved him? Wild Tucker Haynes from the wrong side of the tracks?

  Impossible.

  And yet, here she was. Crying for him. Kissing his hand. Declaring her love.

  He struggled to open his mouth, to tell her he loved her in return, but before he could manage it, a nurse popped into the room.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, the patient’s pulse rate has been going up since you’ve been here. I’m going to give him a sedative to calm him down, and I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”

  The nurse moved across the floor, her shoes squeaking against the linoleum. She carried a needle in her hand.

  July nodded and got to her feet.

  No, don’t go. He tried to speak, but the nurse injected his IV line. In seconds, his tongue felt thick, heavy. Just before his eyelids shuttered closed, he saw July pick up her purse and hurry out the door.

  July and Edna stood in July’s kitchen. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and they were preparing pumpkin and pecan pies. The inclement weather, which paralyzed the city the week before, had disappeared. Outside, the temperature soared close to fifty, making for a pleasant holiday weekend.

  “How’s Tucker?”

  “The doctor is releasing him from the hospital today. He refused to let me come get him. Said the drive was too far.” July fought back tears. “I invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner, but he has something more important to do.”

  “Well, darling, maybe it’s for the best.” Edna patted July’s hand.

  “I simply can’t believe that. I know he loves me, Edna. I just know it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s in those brown eyes of his. When he looks at me, I see such admiration reflected there that I feel all mushy inside.”

  “Could be hormones,” Edna pointed out.

  July shook her head. “We’re very attracted to each other, that’s true, but it’s so much more than that.”

  “I’m not saying he doesn’t care for you, dear. Just that maybe you should give him some space.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t press when he asked me not to come get him. I have to let him go.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I just wish I could be sure he’d come back to me.” Edna rested her hand on July’s shoulder. “You’ve done all you can. The rest is up to Tucker. From what you’ve told me, he’s a good-hearted man struggling hard with the issue of trust.”

  July slid the pies into the oven then dusted her hands on her apron. “I’ve got to learn to let go, and he’s got to learn to trust.” She gave her neighbor a wry smile. “Seems we have opposite life lessons.”

  “Opposites do attract,” Edna commented.

  Yes, July thought. She and Tucker were opposites. But their opposing natures complemented each other. Where she was too trusting, his wariness balanced her; whereas her bubbly social nature coaxed him from his aloofness. And his calm inner strength provided the perfect foil to her impulsiveness.

  Fresh tears pressed against the back of her eyelids, but July blinked them away. Edna was right. She could not hold on to thoughts of Tucker. If she wanted to change the old behaviors that had caused her so much trouble in the past, she had to let go.

  Abandoning control was not easy. Today it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed not to get into her car and drive to Presidio County Hospital fifty miles away.

  Swallowing against the pain burning her throat, July accepted her sorrow and surrendered all hope. If she and Tucker were meant to be, she had to let him sort his issues out for himself. Until then, she had guests coming, and she was nothing if not a good hostess.

  The drive back from Kovena was a happy one. For the first time in his life, Tucker truly felt free. His spirits floated lighter than a hot-air balloon. His heart filled with hope. The aches and pains he’d suffered in the accident had been relegated to a petty annoyance.

  He’d left the hospital on Wednesday with one goal in mind: to confront his father and make peace with his past. He had not expected miraculous results, nor had he found them.

  What he had found was the one thing he’d lost so long ago.

  Serenity.

  Tucker hadn’t been back to his hometown since the rainy night he roared out of town on his secondhand Harley, eighteen and edgy, with a mile-wide chip on his shoulder.

  Driving down the narrow streets, he’d been surprised at the wistfulness that went through him. Kovena was smaller, dirtier than he remembered.

  In the 1980s it had been a booming oil mining community. Now, houses were boarded up, and many businesses had shut down, including the Talmadge dry-cleaning shops, the oil played out.

  Tucker found his anger had dissipated. The people who’d taunted him were gone, having moved on long ago. For years, he’d been holding on to a grudge that had no basis in his current life.

  Why had he wasted so much time wallowing in the unchangeable past? Anger had done nothing but keep him from forming loving attachments in the present. It had taken one perky little social worker to show him that truth.

  Thoughts of July buoyed his spirits and gave him the courage to continue. By the time he traveled over the railroad tracks to the ramshackle trailer community on the outskirts of town, Tucker felt prepared to face the man who’d made his childhood a living hell.

  The trailer was still there, sadder and more pathetic than ever. The porch leaned precariously against the tin house. Dogs, chained in the yard, barked. Beer cans and whiskey bottles lay strewn about the lawn. Gray laundry flapped listlessly on the sagging clothesline.

  Tucker stopped his rental car and stilled the engine. He’d sat staring at the place that had been both his physical and mental prison for so many years.

  Time to face the music.

  He’d gotten out and walked to the door. After several knocks, the old man had finally answered, wearing a dirty undershirt and torn pants. Tobacco stains ringed his scruffy beard, and he stank like booze and body odor.

  “Whatever you’re sellin’, I ain’t buyin’,” the old man had snarled.

  Tucker had stood there, wanting to say something, but no words came to mind. What could he say? His father, belly bloated, skin yellowed, teeth missing, had not even recognized him.

  “Sorry,” Tucker said at last. “I’ve got the wrong place.”

  “You made me get up from my TV program for nothin’,” his father complained. Then without another word, he slammed the door in Tucker’s face.

  Tucker had stalked back to the car on trembling legs, useless adrenaline spurting throughout his system. He felt a strange exhilaration. July was wrong about one thing.

  Not everyone could be rehabilitated. Some people, like Leo and Mikos Stravanos and Lieutenant Petruski, preferred the choices they’d made no matter how nonsensical they seemed to others.

  But sometimes, if a man was willing to change, if he took the risk for a better life, if he committed himself to personal growth, that man could indeed turn himself around and embrace a bright, welcoming future.

  A man such as himself.

  By throwing optimistic, do-gooding little July Johnson in his path, God had gifted Tucker with a second chance. An opportunity to grab at love with both hands and hold on tight. He would not let her slip through his fingers.

  Leaving Kovena, one thought had throbbed in his mind. He had to get back to the woman he loved. Had to tell her he was willing and able to relinquish his carefully constructed defenses and allow her into his heart.

  Yes, crusty, bitter Tucker Haynes was, at long last, willing to relinquish his mistrust and take a chance on love.

  On Thanksgiving, July’s apartment was packed with family and friends. Loud, chaotic, and full of life—just the way she liked it. The turkey was baking in the oven. The smell of cinnamon wafte
d in the air.

  Laughter rolled off the walls as everyone talked and joked. But despite the festive atmosphere, something was missing.

  Tucker.

  “Need any help?” Her mother smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder.

  July almost said no, but then stopped herself. A certain brown-eyed handsome lawman had taught her an important lesson, and she wasn’t about to forget it.

  “Yes, Mother, I would love some help.”

  Her mother looked mildly surprised and beamed. “What can I do for you?”

  “Dress the fruit salad.”

  “I’d be delighted, sweetheart.”

  July couldn’t mistake the joy in her mother’s voice. How had she managed to live so many years without realizing that others wanted to help, to be needed just like she did? When she’d insisted on doing all the giving, she’d denied others the same pleasure.

  Watching her mother assemble the ingredients for the poppy seed dressing, July gave thanks for the simple pleasures of home and family.

  Even if she’d lost Tucker, she still had a lot to be thankful for. But that did nothing to ease the pain nestled deep inside her. A relentless ache that gnawed at her since he’d left town.

  Let go. The words were a litany she recited a thousand times a day. Anything to keep her mind off Tucker.

  “July, there is a man standing in the alley,” her sister June said, coming into the kitchen with a pan of cornbread dressing she’d brought.

  “What?” July exhaled in a whoosh. Could it be? Did she dare hope? Trembling, July hurried to the kitchen window and pushed back the curtains.

  There he was again.

  Her heart thudded, slowed. Excitement raised the hair on her arms. Her Thanksgiving prayer had been answered. If it’s meant to be, please God, let Tucker come home.

  Tucker paced the alley, his lips moving as he muttered something under his breath. He looked different. Instead of scruffy jeans and a leather jacket, he wore a suit and tie. Gone were his worn cowboy boots, and in their place were black dress shoes. There was a small white bandage plastered to his forehead.

  His hands were clasped behind his back, and he appeared to be clutching something.

  Then she remembered their first meeting and smiled.

  “Tucker,” she whispered out loud.

  “Do you know who he is?” June asked. “He’s a stone-cold hunk, but what’s he doing in the alley?”

  “Working up the courage to come into an apartment full of people,” July replied, her heart swelling with joy and pride. Tucker had returned. And on a holiday. Knowing she’d have a crowd, knowing he’d have to face a celebration.

  “Oh, ho,” June said. “Is this the infamous Tucker?”

  An impulse seized July, and she started to run downstairs, but a calm, rational thought floated through her mind.

  Let him come to you.

  She knew it was the right thing to do. Instead of going to him, she took a deep breath then told her family and friends about Tucker and what he meant to her. Finally telling them what had happened in the ground floor apartment across the courtyard.

  Her family had heard about the incident in her apartment complex on the news, but they hadn’t known she was involved. She’d kept quiet to protect them, but now she realized by shutting them out, she put herself in the power position, and it was time to share.

  “He sounds like a man who needs a lot of TLC,” her mother said when she’d finished the story. “If anyone is up to the job, it’s you, July.”

  July gave her mother a wry smile. “That’s just the thing, Mom. I’m the one who needs him.”

  At that moment, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” July said, her heart thumping.

  She felt every eye in the place follow her as she walked across the living room. All talk suspended.

  Flinging open the door, July stared into Tucker’s dark-brown eyes.

  “Hello.” He greeted her with an insouciant smile and a bouquet of purple roses. “For your Thanksgiving table.”

  “Tucker,” she said, feeling tears push against her eyelids.

  Their gazes locked.

  She forgot to inhale.

  Time hung suspended. Nothing else mattered as their souls collided.

  “May I come in?”

  She took the flowers he offered and ushered him across the threshold. The lump in her throat rose vast and thick.

  Through misty eyes and with a husky voice, she took him by the hand and introduced him around the crowded room.

  All her family and friends welcomed him as if he were a long-lost relative. Tucker shook hands and returned smiles. He seemed relaxed, comfortable, not tense or nervous or out of place. He radiated a quiet serenity.

  What a change! But the transformation had been none of her doing. He’d changed on his own, without her influence, and that was the way it should be.

  “Could I speak with you alone for a few minutes?” Tucker asked several minutes later after everyone had been properly greeted.

  Still cradling the flowers in her arm, she led him to her bedroom.

  “Thank you for the roses,” she whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Not half as beautiful as you.” Gently, he took the flowers from her hand and set them on the dresser. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I walked through your door.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Sweetly, softly, deeply.

  July sighed and dissolved into his embrace. Heaven. Pure heaven.

  A minute or two later, he broke their kiss, leaned back, and studied her face. “It feels so good to be here.”

  “Oh, Tucker, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I know, sweetheart, I missed you, too. I lost my heart to you, and I knew I’d never be whole again until I returned.”

  Tears trickled down her face, and he gently kissed them away. “Shh, don’t cry. I’m here.”

  “I didn’t think...I mean, I was afraid...” She hiccupped.

  “No reason to be afraid.”

  “I didn’t know if you wanted me or not.”

  “July, I wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you in those tight blue jeans and that red sweater. You looked so cute and feisty with those windblown curls tumbling about your face and your cheeks rosy from the cold. I just didn’t think I had anything to offer a woman like you.”

  “Do you still believe that?” she whispered.

  He could tell she was desperate to hear his answer. She needed reassurance that the changes in him were permanent, that he wouldn’t retreat from her as he had in the past.

  “I went to Kovena yesterday, July. To face my past, to find my father.”

  She gazed into his face and fingered the collar of his shirt. “And what did you find?”

  “A dried-up town and a broken-down old man. I discovered that I’d been allowing a childhood I couldn’t change to shape my life. Letting the opinions of people who didn’t matter pass judgment on my worth as a human being.”

  “So what do you think now?”

  “I think anyone who wants to change badly enough, can. I believe everyone deserves a second chance. I’ve learned love can erase the ravages of the past.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb, gazing steadily into her eyes. “Because of you, I dared to face what I had become and take steps to alter my course. You taught me how to trust.”

  “You’ve taught me a lot, too,” she said.

  “Oh? What’s that?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “You showed me how to let go, to allow others to help me, to receive as well as give. Thank you.”

  “I love you, July.”

  “And I love you, Tucker.”

  He kissed her again. Harder this time, more passionately. “Give me an opportunity to prove to you that I can be the kind of man you deserve.”

  “But, Tucker, you already are. You’re strong and brave and loving. Who could ask for anything more?”

  “You know what?” he said.

/>   “What?” She smiled.

  “I feel as if I’ve finally found my true place in life, right in your arms.”

  “You have,” she whispered, nestling her chin in the hollow of his neck. “Welcome home, Tucker. At long last, welcome home.”

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading Tucker. If you enjoyed the book, I would so appreciate a review.

  If you’d like to keep up with my latest releases, you can sign up for my newsletter @ https://loriwilde.com/sign-up/.

  If you’d like to read Sheriff Matt Forrester’s romance, please turn the page for an excerpt of Matt.

  To check out my other books, visit me on the web @ www.loriwilde.com.

  Chapter: Excerpt Matt

  “I hate to trouble you, Miss Savannah, but I’m afraid I’ve got more bad news.” Clement Olson stood in the doorway staring down at his dusty cowboy boots and clutching a battered, paint-stained baseball cap between gnarled, callused fingers.

  “Clem, I don’t think I can handle another disaster,” Savannah Markum mumbled around a mouthful of straight pins and glanced up from where she knelt on the kitchen floor pinning the hem on her younger sister’s wedding dress.

  Ginger stood before her on a chair, arms outstretched, billows of white lace and satin draped over her petite frame. Savannah’s fifteen-month-old son, Cody, toddled across the room, his chubby fingers wrapped around a plastic, drool-soaked teething ring.

  Savannah plucked the pins from her mouth and stabbed them into a tomato-shaped pincushion. “Let me guess, the work truck finally called it quits.”

  “No, ma’am.” Clem shifted his weight and then met her gaze. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that.”

  What now? Between her overdue property taxes, an astronomical vet bill, and a busted washing machine, finances loomed as bleak as the West Texas landscape.

  Not to mention Ginger’s wedding expenses.

  A heavy strand of honey-colored hair broke free from her ponytail and flopped across her forehead. Irritated, Savannah brushed away the uncooperative lock and rose to her feet.