His Convenient Husband: Innamorati, Book 1 (2 page)

“He does.” Juan touched Micah’s shoulder, gaining his attention. He stared right into Micah’s eyes. “You do too.”

“Me?” He shrugged again and stared out toward the pasture. The cool spring breeze brought with it the sweet, fresh smell of alfalfa. It was peaceful and familiar, helping him pretend nonchalance. “I just want to make sure the ranch stays afloat and stays with those who love it.”

“It will.” Juan nodded and gripped the wood rail, leaning on it a little.

“I wish I had your confidence,
Tio
. Duncan is gonna cause problems, I just know it.”

Lifting his hat, Juan scratched his head then stuffed the beat-up old cowboy hat back on. “How so?”

“He’s been bugging me to turn over the ranch’s finances to him.”

“Pshaw. Ferguson handed that job over to you.” Turning, Juan leaned his hip against the porch rail. “And he did so with good reason.”

Micah snorted. “What reason?”

“Because he knows what kind of man you are. You’ll find a way to make it all work.” Juan chuckled. “Keep looking,
perrito
. Duncan is no threat.” He patted Micah on the back and walked down the steps out toward the barn.

That was…odd.
Keep looking?
What did that mean? Micah frowned. What did Juan know that Micah didn’t? “
Tio
?”

Without looking back, Juan waved his hand and kept walking.

Micah spun around and planted his butt against the porch rail. Why did old people always talk in riddles? The breeze ruffled his hair and brought a slight nip, making him shiver. He crossed his arms and gazed back into the office at the computer. Was there something on there? A hidden back account? The hair on Micah’s arms stood. Apprehension and anticipation coiled inside of him. Rubbing his arms, he couldn’t overcome the sense that his chill wasn’t entirely from the wind.

Chapter Two

“Fuck.”
What is
he
doing here?
Tucker gritted his teeth and tried to push the annoyance away. A smidgen of guilt niggled at him, which made him want to clench his teeth again. He was being an ass. Dennis wasn’t the problem. Normally he was delightful company, but Tucker had stepped off the plane from California at six this morning and had been going nonstop ever since. He needed a little downtime.

At least Dennis hadn’t taken Tucker’s favorite spot this time. He preferred parking nearest to the elevators, even though the next space was also assigned to him. That way no one parked next to his Jag, unless someone—like Dennis—was visiting. It was a little thing but he loved his car and didn’t want it dented all to hell with door dings.

Dennis stood leaning against his powder blue Jetta looking elegant in his gray suit and red tie. The epitome of successful businessman, he looked untouchable and…fake. Dennis pretended to be so restrained and prudish, but Tucker didn’t mind the act. It wasn’t much of a challenge, but it was amusing…sometimes. Today, however, wasn’t one of those times. Tucker wasn’t in the mood.

Wondering how long it’d take to get rid of him, Tucker pulled into the space next to Dennis’s car. He’d had a long day and still had more work to do tonight. Dennis’s constant chatter would likely make Tucker’s head explode, which was another reason Dennis had to go. Maybe Tucker could talk him into a blowjob first. Dennis, who professed not to do oral sex, gave decent head.

Pushing away from his car, Dennis strode briskly around it toward Tucker.

Tucker checked the navigation screen in his dashboard. It was only seven thirty-six. He never got home before seven. Dennis should know that by now, but he could bitch if he wanted to, Tucker really didn’t care. He’d become rather good at tuning it out.

After putting his car in park, he cut the engine.

Shaking his head, Dennis crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Tucker to get out of the car.

Great.
The chance of a blowjob before he got rid of Dennis wasn’t looking good. Tucker gathered up his briefcase and his laptop and unfolded himself from his car. “Hello, Dennis.”

“You forgot.”

Yup, the blowjob was history. “Forgot what?” Tucker shut the door and locked it before putting his laptop bag over his shoulder and starting toward the elevator.

“You were going to take me out tonight.” Dennis maneuvered his way in front of Tucker so that Tucker had to reach past Dennis to push the button for the elevator.

Oops.
“Sorry I—”

The elevator door opened.

Digging into his laptop bag for his keys, Tucker stepped around Dennis and inside the elevator. He pushed the button to his floor just as his other hand found the keys.

“Tucker, I can’t believe you forgot.” Dennis followed him in before the doors closed. Huffing out a breath, he blew the elegant mahogany-colored forelock off his forehead and threw his hands in the air, letting them fall back to his sides with a slap. His gray eyes narrowed. “You forgot last time too. And the time before that.”

Well damn.
The elevator started moving and Tucker glanced above the door at the floor numbers. “Sorry.” That was the best he could do. Offering to go anyway was out of the question. It was too bad about the blowjob though.
Floor eighteen. Almost there.

“Sorry? That’s it?”

Come on, floor twenty-one.
Tucker jiggled his keys. Maybe he could still talk Dennis into a handjob. It wouldn’t take long, and then he could get to work on the papers he’d brought home. He closed his eyes, trying to recall all the things he had to do before tomorrow morning. He needed to call Roger about the meeting at eight a.m., make sure his secretary sent the contracts to Cliff and check the stocks on Oxy Corp. again.

The chime rang and the doors parted.

Opening his eyes, Tucker headed out of the elevator and to his apartment. “You wanna come in?” He unlocked his apartment door. “I’ll order us some food.” Maybe he’d get Mexican food from the place next door or Italian from the restaurant up the street. He was tired of Chinese. “How about pizza?”

No answer.

“Dennis?”

Still no answer.

Tucker turned.

Dennis stood in the elevator with a frown on his face and hands on his hips. The door started to close, but he stuck his hand out, stopping it, and strode toward Tucker. “That’s it?” He pushed into the apartment past Tucker. “You want to order pizza? And then what?”

Well shit.
A handjob wasn’t looking very promising either. Shutting the door, Tucker crossed the room and set his briefcase on the coffee table before depositing his laptop bag on the couch. He turned on the lamp beside the couch and pushed the button to open the vertical blinds. “I said I was sorry. What else do you want from me? I’m hungry and pizza sounds good. I’m ordering some. If you want to eat, fine. If not, that’s fine too.” He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, already bored with this conversation.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Dennis’s voice went so high it almost screeched. “So you aren’t taking me out? Is that what you’re saying?”

After tossing his jacket over the chair closest to him, Tucker unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt. “I’ve got work to—”

“You always have work to do. That’s all you do. Work, work, work. You’re a coldhearted bastard. You don’t give a damn about anything but your fucking job and making money.” He put his hands on his hips again, striking a pose that would make any drama queen envious. “You can’t even take holidays off to go see your own damn family. You never go out, unless it involves business.”

Someone knocked on the door, fizzling Dennis’s show-stopping tantrum.

Relieved at the interruption, Tucker pinched the bridge of his nose and headed across the room. He opened the door and blinked. Dropping his hand from his nose, he blinked again, convinced he was seeing things. No, he wasn’t imagining it. He’d know those lips anywhere. He’d seen that particular chin shadowed by a hat too many times to mistake it.

A smile spread across Tucker’s face and excitement bubbled up inside him before he could quash it. “Micah?”

Micah was taller than the last time Tucker had seen him, leaner too. The black cowboy hat sat low on his head, covering his eyes and emphasizing the soft jaw, angular chin and sensual mouth pressed into a thin line. Something was wrong.

Tucker’s heart sank and dread coiled in his stomach. “Come in.” He grabbed Micah by the hand, noticing his duffle bag for the first time, and tugged Micah inside. Pushing the bag off Micah’s shoulder, Tucker pulled the other man into his arms. “What is it?” He rubbed Micah’s lean back, hoping to abolish some of the tension, and felt the bumps of his spine. He was too thin. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Micah stiffened, then his arms came around Tucker’s waist loosely, almost hesitantly, but it was enough to bring Tucker back to his senses.
Thank God.
Releasing Micah, Tucker stepped back and tried not to scowl. The endearment had slipped right out, like the most natural thing in the world. “Why are you here?” Well, he hadn’t scowled, but the question had come out pretty clipped. He wouldn’t take it back though.

“I—” Micah winced then cleared his throat. “I came to bring you home.”

“Ahem.” Dennis stepped forward and thrust out his hand. “I’m Dennis Hammond. And you are?”

With red tingeing his cheeks, Micah dipped his head toward Dennis and shook his hand. “Micah Jimenez. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hammond.” He glanced back at Tucker and pulled off his cowboy hat. He brushed a hand through his short black hair and his Adam’s apple bobbed. There were bags under his eyes and he was wearing his glasses.

The impulse to wrap his arms around Micah again was strong, making Tucker frown. He hadn’t seen Micah in four years, not since the night their relationship changed forever. The surge of emotion was swift, powerful and unwelcome. He had to find out what Micah wanted and get rid of him. Fast.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt but—” Glancing at Dennis, Micah swallowed hard again. He twisted the hat brim in his hands, something he’d always done when he was nervous. Glancing back at Tucker, he asked, “Could we have a word in private?”

“I’ll just be going then.” Dennis stepped closer toward the door and consequently Micah. “Well good luck to you, Micah Jimenez. I don’t know who you are, but maybe you’ll have better luck than I did. See you around, Tucker.”

Damn it, of all the people in the world to witness Dennis leaving like this, it would have to be Micah. Forcing himself to unclench his jaw, Tucker tried to act as if being dumped was no big deal. “Dennis—”

“No. I can’t deal with this anymore. The sex was as phenomenal as everyone said, but you take too much and give too…” he glanced back at Micah and his brow furrowed, “…give too little.” After shaking his head, he made eye contact with Tucker. “I can’t do this.” He opened the door. “If you ever want more, call me.” And shut it quietly behind him.

Dragging his tie off his neck, Tucker winced.
Guess that’s a no on the handjob? Holy shit.
He wanted to punch something. It was a scary thought. Everything he did was with a calm, calculating tenacity that served him and his interests well. He’d learned long ago not to show his hand. Was that being a coldhearted bastard? And why the hell did seeing Micah after all this time have him off kilter? When he turned back, Micah was still standing in the same spot with his eyes as big as saucers, and Tucker’s temper eased before it could really get going.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just—”

Tucker dropped his tie on top of his coat. No way in hell was he going to let Micah see the effect his presence had on him. “You didn’t. I was trying to figure out how to get rid of him when you showed up.” As Tucker headed toward the kitchen, he picked up the phone and punched the number two speed-dial button. “Still like pepperoni and olives on your pizza?” Micah could stand to gain a few pounds.

“Tucker?”

Tucker grabbed two beers out of the fridge as he ordered the pizza. How long had Dennis lasted? Two months? Three?
Ouch.
Tucker didn’t know. He tried to muster up regret, but there was nothing. Not a damn thing. Tossing the phone on the couch, he flopped down next to it. He set his beer on the table before holding the other out to Micah. “Come sit down.”

Micah came around the adjacent loveseat and sat, placing his hat beside him. He appeared dead on his feet. Had he driven the six hours straight from the ranch? “Did you get AJ’s call?”

“I’ve been out of town until this morning. My secretary left me some messages but I haven’t had a chance to look at them. What’s wro—?” Granddad had cancer.
Oh no.
Tucker had meant to go home. He’d wanted to see Granddad one last time. Tears brimmed in his eyes and pain lanced through him, like the time he’d fallen off his horse and flat onto his back when he was five. He took a drink of his beer, letting the tangy flavor hang in his mouth a little before swallowing. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No! No, he’s still hanging on. It’s not going to be long though. But that’s not why I came. Well, no, it sort of is, but it’s not entirely why I came. I need—” Micah leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his head, peering at the floor.

Tucker turned away. Why did being near Micah after all this time make Tucker feel so off balance? Damn him. Tucker had never been able to resist his protective instincts where Micah was concerned. Why hadn’t AJ or Dad come to get him instead?

Micah glanced up, his eyes heavy lidded. The memories of that night came rushing back to Tucker. Micah’s blissful face as Tucker sank into him, Micah’s teary eyes when he begged Tucker not to go. The rush of guilt assailed Tucker just like it had as he drove away from The Bar D that last time.

After a few seconds, Micah ran his hands over his face. His complexion had grown a little paler than before, or maybe the shadows under his eyes were just more pronounced in the lamplight. “I found his will the other day on the computer and your uncle has been emailing me every other day insisting I turn things over to him and—” Unshed tears shimmered in his eyes. “I can’t sit by and let the ranch go under…or worse, go to your uncle, but I don’t know what to do.”

Whoa. Wait a minute.
Duncan?
Rage built up inside Tucker and he had to fight to keep it from boiling over. “What do you mean go to my un—” God, he couldn’t even say it. He didn’t want to admit to that relation. “Duncan? Granddad wouldn’t—” Last time Tucker had talked to AJ—what was it, a month ago now?—AJ had said he was taking over as foreman and Micah was acting ranch manager. It had sounded like everything was running smoothly. Micah had always been a smart little thing, and Tucker remembered thinking it was a good choice, so what had happened? Where the fuck did Duncan fit into this?

“I wouldn’t have thought so either, but the way Granddad’s will reads it’s possible your uncle could get the ranch. I need you to look into it. It’s worded strangely, as if that condition in the will only applies to your dad, you and AJ, but…Duncan is the oldest son. I don’t have the money to hire a lawyer to look at it and Ferguson isn’t in any shape to discuss it.”

“Over my dead body will that son of a bitch get his hands on The Bar D.” Tucker stood, heading over to the window. “Tell me what’s what with the ranch.” He winced at the bite in his voice. This wasn’t Micah’s fault, but the very idea of Tucker’s treacherous unc—Duncan getting his hands on the ranch did not sit well.