Chapter One

Tucker Hammond couldn't stop laughing as he followed his older brother and uncle out of the farmhouse. Hunter and Uncle Wes had been sharing stories about their time as the CEO of the family company—Hammond Manufacturing Company. Hunt had run it for seventeen years, and Uncle Wes probably twenty-five.

And today, they were all heading into the city. Aunt Bree and Opal had some shopping and other wedding things to do; Tucker's only sister had just had her baby, and he was tagging along with Hunter and Uncle Wes to take lunch to everyone at Jane's house.

Tuck had come back to Ivory Peaks with his parents to see Jane and Cord's new son, and he'd been in town for less than twenty-four hours. Still, he'd thought of Bobbie Jo Hanks several times. If she hadn't gotten a new phone number, he could text her and find out if she had dinner plans.

For some reason, he hadn't. Tuck had been learning that just because he had a thought didn't mean he had to speak. Didn't mean he had to act on it.

No one had mentioned her. Not Hunt or Cord, nor Molly or Jane. So as Tuck left the homestead, he looked over to the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. From this distance, she'd have to be literally walking toward him or crossing the pasture, and she wasn't doing either.

So he hitched his smile in place and listened as Hunt started a new story about staying late one night and accidentally asking three different people to order dinner in for those who'd had to work through the meal.

"You've never seen so much pizza," he said, his boisterous laugh filling the August sky. "Boxes and boxes of it."

"I could eat pizza for every meal," Tuck said.

"It's a favorite," Uncle Wes said. "But Jane requested the roast beef sandwich from Deli Harvest, so that's where we're going first."

"And then to Porky's, right?" Tuck asked. His mouth watered for the sloppy barbecue pulled pork sandwich, and he knew for a fact that Mike, Uncle Wes's son, Tucker's cousin, and the current CEO of HMC, had requested the same sandwich for his lunch.

"Right," Hunt said as he got in the passenger seat of Uncle Wes's truck. "You starving, little brother?"

Tuck grinned as he climbed into the backseat. "Always."

"Well, we've got a ways to go," Uncle Wes said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Lunch pick-up, driving to Jane's, another drive, more food pick-up, and then to the high rise downtown."

"He literally just ate two bowls of cereal inside," Hunt said. "He's fine."

"I'm fine," Tuck agreed. He tuned out the conversation as the drive started. He turned to his phone instead, where he'd been communicating with another manager in the rodeo about a cowboy who might potentially need a manager.

He'd met with Cole Walker, but he'd been working with a great manager named Leon Peters for only a couple of years. Tuck wasn't going to try to poach the man away, and he'd enjoyed his summer working with Blaze and Jem Young in their youth rodeo program.

He wasn't sure what the next step for him was, but he had faith in God that something would open up for him. He wasn't sure if that opportunity would present itself in Coral Canyon, or here in Ivory Peaks, or somewhere else completely.

He was trying to be patient, be open to all things, and keep his nose clean and his head down.

Since his parents were going to be staying in Ivory Peaks for a few months—until his cousin Opal married her fiancé Taggart Crow—Tuck would be here too. He'd moved into the generational house with his younger brother, because his old cabinmate had a new man living with him, so Tuck couldn't go back there.

He could've moved in with Hunter too, or even stayed with his parents, who were living in the foreman's cabin out in the cowboy community, away from the homestead. He'd opted for staying with Deacon, because it wasn't with the other cowboys.

He didn't want to stay on the family farm, plain and simple, and if he integrated himself into the community out there, it would be harder for him to leave. Tuck had already gone through that once a few months ago, and he didn't want to do it again.

Plus, you didn't want to run into Bobbie Jo.

He dismissed the thought almost as instantly as it had come into his mind. It might be true, but Tuck didn't trust himself to be alone with Bobbie Jo. "Especially after kissing her the way you did," he muttered.

The reason he'd given everyone was that he missed his brother, which wasn't untrue. Tuck did miss Deacon, and he actually admired how stalwart and steady his brother was. He knew what he wanted, and he got up every day and worked toward that thing.

Tuck felt blown about in the wind, the way a dandelion seed did after a child made a wish on it and sent it off to come true.

He'd always been a dreamer, and his daddy has spent the better part of the summer telling him it was okay to be who he was. That God had made him to be more spontaneous than Deacon, and that he could still make a good life for himself by dreaming and going after those dreams.

"We need help carrying everything," Hunt said, and Tuck pulled himself out of his head. He got out of the truck and went in with his family members to get the food they'd ordered for everyone out at Jane and Cord's new farm.

They'd moved completely onto the property now, and the house in the suburbs—where he'd lived with Jane before she and Cord tied the knot—had gone onto the market. Yes, she'd asked him if he'd wanted it. No, Tucker did not want a six-thousand-square-foot house in a neighborhood behind a gate.

What he really wanted was a big camper to tow around and live in while he moved from rodeo to rodeo with a really talented cowboy. He'd prayed and prayed for God to give him the talent in the saddle, but it simply hadn't happened yet. At this point, Tuck was pretty sure he wasn't going to be a rodeo champion.

He was great with a rope, and if he could find a partner with patience and deadly aim as the lead man, he might-could make a living in the rodeo. But so far, he hadn't been able to find that partner either.

Not since his last cowboy and best friend, Tarr, had retired officially.

He helped pick up the bags of food, and it all got put in the back of the truck with him. They then made the drive to Twilight Fields, the name of the farm Cord and Jane had bought. They hadn't renamed it, and a sense of shimmering sunshine and serenity passed over Tuck as Uncle Wes turned onto the dirt road that led toward seemingly only trees.

Tuck did like trees, and his mind wandered according to the rumbling of the tires. Maybe he could be a lumberjack or something. Did they travel and see different forests? What skills would he need, and would he have to go to college to get them?

Tuck did not like college or book learning very much.

"Tuck," Hunter said, and his loud voice startled Tucker.

"What?" he asked crossly. "I'm right here."

Hunter had already gotten out of the truck. "I've said your name three times." Hunter wore a frown that melted away as he slammed his door and pulled open Tuck's. "What are you thinkin' about?"

Tuck could absolutely not say trees. Not to his high-powered, super-CEO, older brother. "Nothing," he growled. "I'm coming." He twisted and reached for the bags of food he'd carried out of the restaurant.

Hunt watched him, but Tucker had been living with Daddy for the summer, and he knew how to withstand those dark-eyed looks that asked too many questions. He kept his head low, utilizing his cowboy hat to hide his eyes, as he went by.

Uncle Wes led the way inside, and everyone turned dark compared to his big personality. And right now, Tuck didn't mind living in the shadow of his magnetic uncle. He took the food into the kitchen so everyone at the farm would have something to eat, and then he skedaddled back to the living room, where the cutest baby in the whole wide world currently rested in a swing.

"Howdy, Clint," Tucker said as he moved toward the gently swinging infant. He was only a week old, and Tuck seriously didn't know how the little boy's head could fold into that ninety-degree angle.

"You can get him out," Jane said. "He needs to wake up now."

Tucker looked over to her, suddenly nervous though he'd held the baby already. "I can? Should I?"

"I'd love you forever if you'd hold him while I eat." She gave him a quick side-hug. "You guys are getting lunch somewhere else, right?"

"Yeah," Tucker said, looking back to the baby. They held such wonder for him, and he decided he could fumble around with Clint and learn how to deal with a newborn baby. So as Jane moved into the kitchen, Tucker moved over to the swing.

He switched it off and unclipped the safety belt around the pudgy baby. "All right, buddy," he said. "Come see Uncle Tuck." He lifted the baby up, one hand sliding up behind his floppy head.

Clint made the cutest squeak and groan possible, and a shot of joy injected itself right into Tucker's heart. Then he cradled the baby against his chest and moved as slowly as he ever had—and that meant something for Tucker, who'd been hustling and bustling everywhere he went since the age of four.

The baby made a disgruntled noise, and Tuck went, "Shh, shh, shh." Then he remembered Jane wanted the baby to wake up. He honestly had no idea how to keep a baby awake, and he figured his sister knew that.

People talked and laughed in the other room, but Tuck ignored them. The noise of his family faded away, and all he could see and hear and smell was the perfect little boy in his arms. Tuck had never considered himself as a father, but the feelings running through him told him that perhaps Tuck should be looking for someone to call home, someone he could be a partner with throughout the whole of his life, and someone who could give him a perfect baby like Clint.

Of course, because his mind liked to torture his heart, an image of a pretty strawberry blonde came to the front of his thoughts. Bobbie Jo Hanks.

"Maybe I should just text her," he murmured to Clint. "What do you think, buddy? I mean, it's a text. She can ignore if she wants, right?"

Clint groaned again, and Tuck swore he heard the baby give him permission to text Bobbie Jo. He could do it from the truck, as Uncle Wes drove them from the small town life an hour from the city to the high rise building where Mike worked in downtown Denver.

"Ready, Tuck?" Hunter asked.

Cord followed him, and he finished wiping his mouth as he did. "I'll take him, Tuck."

Tucker easily eased Cord's son into his arms, noting how soft and paternal Cord had become in a single moment. He gazed at Clint with such love, and Tuck's heart sang for this to be his life too.

These thoughts half-surprised him and half-irritated him. He'd been working for months to find a cowboy to manage. Getting back his contacts in the rodeo—and Blaze and Jem Young were still huge in that arena—and mapping out what he wanted the next few years of his life.

Fatherhood had been nowhere in the plan.

"Tucker," Hunter said, more wariness in his voice now.

"I'm coming," he said.

"You're really checked out today," Hunter said.

"He is?" Daddy asked.

Tucker threw a glare at his father, then one to Hunter. "I am not," he said. "Let's go."

"Waitin' on you," Hunter said with an over-exaggerated wave of his arm toward the front door. Tucker did his best not to stomp past everyone and out of the house, because he wasn't thirteen anymore.

He heard his father and Hunter start a conversation behind him, and he knew they were talking about him. Daddy would probably wait a while and then text, or he'd bring it up with Tucker the next time they were together.

Tuck rolled his eyes now, but he knew his daddy loved him, worried about him, and prayed over him constantly. So he didn't really mind talking to his father and spilling everything in his heart and mind.

He did his darndest to stay present, though he didn't care about the conversation happening in the front seat. He did care about getting his pulled pork sandwich, and he did care about getting up to Mike's office as quickly as possible to eat.

So he didn't have Hunter breathing down his back, Tuck stayed attentive through it all, and he carried his beloved sandwich and a huge cup of soda across the lobby and toward the elevator.

One more ride up a bunch of floors, then a walk down a long hall, and finally, finally, Tuck could eat. He was so anxious to get to the food—and to prove to Hunter that he didn't need to be prodded like an errant child—that the moment the elevator chimed its arrival, Tuck started toward it.

A voice he knew met his ears, and it took his eyes a moment to catch up to his memory. The prettiest woman in the world had her head tipped back as she laughed, and Tucker wanted to bathe in the sound of Bobbie Jo's voice.

Unfortunately, he'd been living in small-town Coral Canyon or Ivory Peaks for years, and he didn't frequent a lot of elevators. And double unfortunately, he'd already started moving onto the elevator.

He didn't realize that etiquette dictated that he should've waited for the people already on the elevator to get off, and Bobbie Jo did exactly that.

And since she wasn't looking directly at Tucker, she didn't see him.

Everything in the world turned into slow motion. He tried to stop, but his long legs were between steps. He instinctively lifted his hand to block her or shield himself or something. Truth be told, his brain couldn't work that fast.

Bobbie Jo looked at him, and he caught a hint of surprised recognition a mere nanosecond before he ran straight into her with his cola cup.

Which exploded.

Brown liquid shot out of the top, dislodging the lid and sending fizzy soda in all directions. Tucker even got a few drops straight to the face.

And in a triple move of unfortunate, most of his Diet Coke spilled down the front of Bobbie Jo's pristine white scientific lab coat.