His Country Girl. Jillian Hart

room. She hadn’t even stopped at the hotel room.

      “Baby, I stayed all night at the airport, I pleaded my case with the ticket agent and I got on the first flight out.” Jeri Lynn set her suitcase against the wall and peeled off her gloves. “I’m here. How’s our Owen?”

      “So far, so good. At least they haven’t told me any differently.” She felt Tucker’s hand withdraw from hers and she couldn’t explain why she felt bereft, why she felt unbearably lonely or why her hand continued to tingle with the memory of his comforting touch. Her mother was in her arms before she could ponder it too much.

      “I can see I’m no longer needed.” Kindness, strong and good, radiated from him as he clutched his cane and pushed himself to his feet. Was it her imagination or did he seem sad, too? In a blink the look in his eyes had changed and he was the same unstoppable, untamable force he’d always been. “Give me a call when Owen’s in recovery. I want to hear how great his surgery went.”

      “I will.” She caught that look in her mother’s eye. The smart thing to do would be to wave the man away as if he meant nothing at all, as if they hadn’t shared a moment of closeness, but that wouldn’t be right. He was already striding away on those long, powerful legs of his, injury and all. She managed to disentangle herself from her mother and step after him. “I can’t tell you what it meant that you came. I—”

      “Don’t sweat it. I know.” He winked like a man without a care in the world, but this time she wasn’t fooled. She could see the layers beneath his dazzling, easygoing grin. He was worried about Owen, he was sad to be leaving and she didn’t know how to ask him to stay. Maybe he didn’t know how to ask either.

      “Call me.” Those were his last words to her before he turned away with a plea on his handsome face she would not soon forget.

      He cared about Owen. And that made her like him far too much.

      “Well, now, isn’t this interesting?” Her mother sounded pleased with the situation. “That Granger boy came all this way to sit with you this morning. Maybe I should have taken a detour to the hotel, maybe showered, changed and searched down some coffee. That would have given you more time together.”

      “He was only being nice, Mother.” Really. She hadn’t been able to hold Ricky’s attention. What chance did she have of keeping a man as handsome, vital and popular as Tucker? He lived a life full of constant change and excitement, even if he did confess to spending most of his nonwork time with his horse. She held no illusions. She was an average girl, and once she’d dreamed that a man could love her enough to change his ways. She would never make that mistake again.

      “Tucker was Owen’s charity wish, you know that. He came here this morning for Owen.” She gave her mom one more hug before recovering her knitting, which she’d forgotten about. It had tumbled to the seat and a few stitches had slipped off. She bowed her head to fish the stitches back onto the needle. “Tucker brought extra coffee. Go ahead and help yourself to the latte.”

      “I will, bless him!” Mom settled into a chair with a smile on her face, but it could not surpass the worry in her eyes. They both knew they had a long wait ahead.

      Sierra couldn’t explain why she felt something was missing—why someone was missing. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder, knowing full well that Tucker was long gone, and that was the way it should be.

      “How are you doing, son?”

      Tucker adjusted the phone on his shoulder and considered his dad’s question as he dropped the last of his clothes into his suitcase. His hotel windows offered a snowy, winter-wonderland view of downtown Denver, but the scenery wasn’t what he saw. It was Sierra sitting alone in the waiting room with her knitting in her lap and anguish on her beautiful face. He hadn’t liked walking away, but he didn’t belong there. Her family had that right. If he’d stayed it would have only gotten complicated.

      “I’m packing right now. Catching a plane in a few hours.” He added his shaving kit to the mess, closed the lid and strong-armed the zipper closed.

      “Great news. I’ll pick you up at the airport. Get more time with my son that way.” Dad sounded warm as always but there was something else layered in his words. Something that tugged at Tucker, bringing up all kinds of issues he didn’t want to face. He found life was easier staying on the surface. Or it had been until the accident. He’d been bucked off a bareback bronc the same way he had hundreds of times, but this landing had been different. He’d flown directly into the horse’s path and the animal hadn’t been able to avoid him.

      Pain. That was the first thing he remembered before his heart had stopped beating. He’d been officially dead for two minutes and thirty-odd seconds until paramedics had gotten his ticker going again. Those two minutes had changed everything.

      Including him.

      “I’d like that, Dad.” When he had woken up in ICU, his father had been at his side. He knew he’d put his dad through a lot of fear and worry, and he was sorry for it. He’d been able to spend ample time at home on the family ranch recuperating, and he’d gotten used to seeing his father every day. He missed him now. “I’ll text you my flight information.”

      “Great. Any word on how the little Baker boy is doing?” Caring about others, that was Frank Granger. Sincerity rang deep in his baritone as his light tone fell away, leaving only solemness. “He was first on my morning’s list of prayers.”

      “Mine, too.” He swallowed hard, ignoring the tug of worry deep in his gut. The image of the little kid, with one arm around Slayer and his eyes wide with excitement listening to rodeo stories, stuck with him. Lord, please watch over that boy.