Second Hope Cowboy Read Online Free Page A

her hair as if to straighten the locks. Did he see trembling in her hand?
    He rubbed his forehead. When he woke up that morning he had no clue what the day would bring—he certainly wouldn’t have guessed that his ex would end up in his arms needing his help.
    “Ready?” He stepped forward.
    “Where are we going? I’m assuming my car isn’t drivable.” Her soft, quivering voice kicked up his protective side—and boy did he have a big one when it came to someone who looked as vulnerable as a day-old pup. He reminded himself that Hope was far from innocent or vulnerable. She’d done a good job of making his world a twisted disaster. No way was he going to give her that much power again.
    He slathered a heavy layer of who-gives-a-shit over his load of compassion.
    “We’ll take care of the details of your car tomorrow. Tonight, you can stay at the cabin. Let’s get out of here.” His harsh tone sounded real enough, but on the inside, he couldn’t ignore that he wanted to hug her. Damn pain-in-the-ass emotions!
    He stormed out into the cool night and sucked in as much oxygen as his lungs could hold, hearing her footsteps close behind him. Out of his peripheral, he caught her slanted look and the tight set of her lips. She wanted to lash out at him, he could see the wheels spinning in her expression, but she walked past him and to the truck.
    Frustration spiraling through him, he kicked a rock with the toe of his boot, sending it hard against the fence on the other side of the lawn. The loud clang shattered the silence. Or was that the sound of his wall crumbling?
    Hell no!
    He just had to get through tonight and send her off tomorrow—out of his life for the last and final time.
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Hope opened one eye to a slit and the dull pain in her head was a reminder that she wasn’t home in her own bed.
    Sitting up, she looked at her surroundings. Stone fireplace. Framed picture of a red barn. Discarded worn boots. Bare feet. Tucker!
    He was asleep in the tattered, flowered chair, his legs stretched out, arms hanging over the sides, softly snoring. The even rise and fall of his chest brought her attention to the open buttons exposing a wide V of smooth, tanned skin. The worn flannel shirt had a small rip in the seam in the shoulder. She knew because she was the reason the hole was there.
    That day years ago seemed like only yesterday. They’d spent most of the night christening their new house at Havens Ranch and she’d pulled on his shirt to go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. When she’d come back, Tucker had dragged her into the rumpled bed, still warm from their lovemaking, and had hungrily tugged the shirt off her. It had become his favorite.
    His arm twitched and she followed the movement. He stilled and she continued her exploration.
    The shirtsleeves were rolled high, revealing toned arms covered by a layer of crisp dark hair, a shade lighter than the silken mass on his head. Without his ever-present hat, she could see that he’d let his hair grow out longer than usual. It didn’t reach his collar, but different than the short cut he kept while they were together.
    Tugging her gaze lower, over the large belt buckle with the design of a bull and star, and inadvertently to his zipper, she swallowed. The fist-sized hole in his jeans, near his thigh, pulled her gaze like water to a sponge. She glimpsed olive skin and white cotton. Gulping air, she squirmed.
    The memory in her loins was alive and well. One thing they’d never lacked was sexual chemistry. Even past the newlywed stage, when most couples began to lose interest, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—mostly she couldn’t keep her hands off her sexy cowboy. He’d come off the land every evening, slick with sweat and dirt, and her inner switch clicked and she’d be ready to go. He’d always been good at lighting a fire in all of her secret places, and she guessed it had ruined her for anyone else.
    Blaise had never