dead. I think it looks like it might be Mutt.” With a pang, she remembered the dog that followed Luke around when he was home.
They got out of the pickup and walked closer. Luke knelt and ran his hand over the dog’s head. “Oh, dammit to hell. That’s Mutt. He was old and weak, and I guess coyotes got him.”
She knelt to look over the carcass more closely, and she hurt even more for Luke because this was the ranch dog that he claimed as his.
“I left him here when I went to California because the ranch was up and running and in good shape,” he said, his voice raspy with regret.
“The ranch was in good shape because you were here,” she said quietly, still looking at the dog.
“The guys liked him and he was happy here. I thought he’d be better off. He looks starved. He was old and weak, but something’s really torn him up.”
“Luke, he’s been shot. Someone shot him, and they may have done it because he was old and he may have been sick. There’s one shot and it’s a killing shot, so this wasn’t random or someone being mean. I think he was torn up by buzzards and coyotes after he was shot.”
Luke leaned closer to look as she pointed to the wound. “I hope he didn’t suffer. I loved the old mutt. He was a good dog.” He released a shaky breath. “I’m going to bury him. I have a shovel, and I’ll wrap him in a tarp and bury him back at the house.”
She heard the catch in Luke’s voice, and a lump rose to her own throat. They both stood, and she looked up at him. Without thinking about it, she touched his wrist again. “I’m sorry. I know you loved him.” The minute her hand rested on his, she knew she shouldn’t have touched him, even though it was obvious he was hurting badly. His wrist was twice the size of hers, warm, his wrist bone hard. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and he gazed at her intently.
“I haven’t loved much in my life, but I loved him,” he said roughly, his voice grating and a muscle working in his jaw. She couldn’t get her breath, and she couldn’t understand the intensity of his gaze or his remark that he hadn’t loved much in his life. Was he just talking about a dog—or was there more to his statement?
She wanted his arms around her so badly it frightened her, and she stepped away quickly, going back to the truck. “Tell me if I can help,” she called over her shoulder.
She was breathing hard as he walked to the back of his pickup. Pulling work gloves from his pocket, he got a tarp to wrap the dog. In minutes, he slid behind the steering wheel and drove on in silence.
Why did it feel as if Luke had been away only days instead of years? Those empty years had vanished in too many ways. The worst part was the realization that she had never really gotten over him, something she had struggled desperately to do.
She had never felt this way for Tanner, and she had been engaged to him. Was it because Luke had been the first love in her life? Or did it go deeper than that?
They rode together in silence, only a couple of feet of space separating them in the pickup, but there was still a permanent, deep chasm dividing them.
He hadn’t loved her and he never would, so why couldn’t she forget him? She clearly meant nothing to him—that alone should stop the volatile reaction she had to him and the desire that still steadily simmered through her veins.
They bounced over the rough ground, and she looked around carefully, trying to see any sign of livestock. In another twenty minutes she spotted horses to the east. “Luke, over there.”
“Yeah, I see. They’re in a fenced pasture, so let’s keep looking and see if we can find some more and get them back with these. They may be in bad shape, but hopefully we can get them to the barn.” He continued to drive, and she gazed around, looking for any more signs of life.
“Luke, I see horses through the trees,” she said a few minutes later, and he swung the pickup in the direction she pointed.
For the next six hours they worked—rounding up horses, finding a few cattle, getting them back to the barn—trying to do it all while it was still daylight. When the horses were finally in the corral by the barn, the cattle in a pasture, Luke closed the corral gate and turned to her.
“You start checking the horses while I get feed to them. They’ve got water now in that tank. Shortly, it’ll be dark, so I’ll get lanterns out now and have them ready, and we can keep working if you can stay. If not, I’ll take you home. I’d appreciate your help if you can.”
“I can stay.”
He looked at her and reached out to hug her. “Thanks, Scarlett,” he said.
As his arms wrapped around her and pulled her against his solid, hard body, her heart thudded. His strong embrace made her tremble and want to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly against her heart. How was she going to work with him into the night without stirring all those old feelings she had for him?
He released her abruptly. “I better get busy,” he said. His words were casual and indifferent. His voice was that hoarse tone he had when he was aroused, so she knew he felt something, too—knowledge which made her heart beat faster. What did Luke feel now? She shouldn’t care or even think about what he was feeling.
Why, oh, why, couldn’t she get Luke out of her system? When he left Texas, he had hurt her terribly, and she shouldn’t feel any kind of desire for him, but she did. How could she ever trust him again? She had to guard her heart and not let sympathy for his problems make her forget their past.
“Luke, I have to call home and then I’ll get busy,” she said, walking away from him.
She talked briefly with her mother, making certain all was well with Carl. While Carl was fine, her mother had warnings about Luke and how he had broken her heart before. The brief conversation just reminded her again how much Luke had hurt her before and made her conscious that she hadn’t gotten over him at all. She had been fooling herself all these years—easy to do when he was in Silicon Valley and she was in Royal.
It was a hot August night in Texas. Luke had lanterns going, and she looked around once just as he yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside. Her mouth went dry and her heartbeat sped up as she looked at his muscles, highlighted by the lamplight. A sheen of sweat glistened on his bulging biceps while he scooped up more hay with a pitchfork. She could remember being in his arms, held tightly against his body. Longing shook her to the core, and she couldn’t stop looking at him while memories sparked more flames inside her. Only now this was a grown man with a man’s broad shoulders, a man’s muscled chest, a still flat, narrow waist and a hard, rippled stomach that disappeared below his belt.
He looked up, catching her staring at him. She boldly met his gaze, wondering if he could guess her thoughts and feelings. After several long, tension-fraught moments, she finally turned away. Heat burned in her cheeks. She didn’t want him to see how easily he could captivate her attention, yet it was evident he knew the effect he had on her, just as she knew when she affected him.
Five minutes later she found her eyes drawn to him once again. She couldn’t resist watching him when she thought he wasn’t aware of it. He must work out in Silicon Valley because he was all muscle, his back and arms shiny with sweat. He’d rolled and tied a
