Mustang Wild. Stacey Kayne

a bedroll and released the ties. “Shut the barn door on your way out,” she said as she tossed the heavy blanket across the bed of fresh straw.

      Even as Tucker told himself he should get out while he could, he lingered, knowing she should eat. “Skylar, you need to eat.”

      She flopped onto her stomach, fluffed her jacket under her head, then shut him out completely by covering her face in the folds of her arms.

      What was he supposed to do now? Just walk away?

      Beats standing here like a bleeding idiot, his mind answered. He turned away, careful to miss her pack this time, and left the barn. What did he care if she didn’t eat?

      Reaching the house, he was still pinching his bloody nose as he stepped inside. Garret burst into laughter before Tucker shut the door behind him.

      “I told you to be careful,” he squealed.

      Not feeling up to giving any explanations, Tucker walked past the table and into the bedroom. Silently cursing the muffled laughter following him from the other room, he tossed himself onto the bed.

      “Is it broke?” Standing in the doorway, his evil twin flashed a wide grin.

      “No,” Tucker answered, annoyed by what it took to put an upward curve in Chance’s lips.

      “What were you doing within arm’s reach of her? You know she’s a spitfire. The kid even warned you.”

      Tucker gaped at his brother over the top of the rag pressed against his nose. “She’s a woman, for criminy sake!”

      “She’s a cowhand. You better realize she’s used to being treated as such. Commenting on that pretty face of hers will only get you into trouble, and treating her like some delicate piece of frippery…well, it seems that sort of foolishness will get you a busted nose.”

      “Skylar didn’t give me the bloody nose.”

      “Uh-huh. Am I supposed to believe you walked into the barn door?”

      “She hung her pack from one of the nails in the rafters. I didn’t see it until the damn thing hit me in the face.”

      Chance’s grin returned. “This woman’s damn hard on your health.”

      “Go to hell,” Tucker mumbled.

      “I’ll be on your heels the whole way, little brother. Is she coming in?”

      “No. She’s…sleeping.”

      Chance turned and walked back to the table, telling Garret he could have extra stew.

      Tucker stared up at the dark ceiling, knowing Chance was right. Despite her pretty face, sultry voice and shapely body that tied him in knots, Skylar was just another cowhand. He’d be doing himself a favor to think of her as such.

      Hell. He’d being doing himself a favor not to think about her at all.

       Chapter 5

       H uddled over the tiny kitchen table with Tucker and Chance as they went over her father’s journal, Skylar continually found her gaze drifting from the sketches of terrain to the sharp lines and intriguing planes of Tucker’s face.

      The swollen tissue across the bridge of his nose was hardly noticeable anymore, leaving only a dark streak beneath his left eye; a constant reminder of her humiliating display of weakness. It was bad enough he’d caught her crying; then she had to go begging for more trouble by constantly looking at him. She’d been chastised enough over the last few years by her father to know better.

      You go flashin’ smiles to the men and you’re gonna find yourself under some rutting bastard and your belly swollen with child.

      Her run-in with Randal had proved his point.

      Randal had been full of crocodile smiles and smoldering stares. She hadn’t thought she’d behaved in a promiscuous fashion toward Randal, but she hadn’t blatantly discouraged his attention, either. During the few minutes he’d wrestled her to the ground, she hadn’t liked his hard kisses or groping hands one single bit. She shuddered at the recollection as self-contempt churned at her insides.

      She couldn’t allow any such confusion between herself and Tucker. Fortunately, he hadn’t looked at her in such a way since the night before last or mentioned the incident. For some reason, Garret and Chance seemed to think she’d been the one who’d bruised up his handsome face. They had harassed him all of yesterday, none of which seemed to bother Tucker. He made light of the incident, flinching dramatically whenever she was within three feet of him. But then, Tucker seemed to make light of life in general. She’d never known anyone who was so quick to smile.

      She needed to get out of here. She found it impossible not to stare at him when they were in the same room, intrigued by his similarities to Chance, as well as their differences, which was why she tried to avoid being in the small cabin at all.

      “Have you found a problem with my suggestion?” she asked.

      Tucker turned the page and pored over the next two maps with the same intensity he had the others. “Not exactly.”

      “This is some journal,” said Chance.

      The slight upward tilt of Chance’s lips caught Skylar’s attention. Chance’s personality was such a contrast to Tucker’s. If they had any physical differences, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint them. It amazed her that two men could be physically identical, yet so very different at the same time.

      “What are we waitin’ on?” Garret called as he barreled in through the open door. “The gear’s all packed. Hey, that’s my pa’s journal.” He stepped beside Tucker and dropped his elbows onto the table as he leaned toward the center.

      “Kid, your head makes a better door than a window,” Chance said in a dull tone.

      Garret eased back and Tucker gave him a firm shove, knocking Garret off balance. Garret quickly found his footing and retaliated by slamming his body against Tucker, nearly knocking him off the crate.

      Tucker laughed as he straightened and looked back at the journal.

      Another difference, thought Skylar. Tucker was particularly kind to Garret, and playful. He didn’t show the impatience she saw in Chance’s expression when Garret hounded them with questions or rattled on the way Garret was prone to do. Tucker was—

      Blast!

      Realizing she was staring at him again, she shifted her gaze toward the open doorway. “We’re burning daylight,” she said with impatience. “Are we settled on heading northeast or not? We can bicker about specific passes on the way.”

      “You’re sure these drawings are accurate?” asked Tucker. “I’ve spent a good deal of time picking my way across Colorado territory, yet this map is littered with passes I’ve never seen or heard of.”

      “My grandfather was a surveyor by trade and my father did some scouting for the military before he married my mother.”

      Tucker’s sharp green eyes flickered up, making brief contact with Skylar’s before he glanced back down at the journal.

      Skylar felt as though she’d been physically touched. Something in the way the man looked at her sent a charge through her body that affected her mind. Like a steer on loco weed. She hadn’t forgotten how intoxicating those green eyes could be, or how incredibly soft and gentle his lips had felt against hers. As hard as she tried over the past two days, she couldn’t get the recollection out of her mind.

      “Sky?”

      “Yeah?” Skylar blinked, and simultaneously realized Tucker was staring at her and Chance had been talking to her. She dropped her gaze away from Tucker. “Yeah, that’s the pass,” she said, noticing Chance’s finger on the narrow channel through the San Juan Mountains, hoping that was what he’d been commenting on while her mind had been off chasing rainbows.

      Dear