Her son was on his hands and knees on his hospital bed, watching for the first glimpse of his hero
Sierra let Tucker go in first, love overwhelming her at the happiness chasing across her sonâs pale face.
âTucker!â Owen beamed up at his hero. âYou came. Youâre really here and everything.â
âSure I am, buddy.â
If her sonâs eyes got any bigger, they would roll right out of his head.
âMom, itâs Tucker Granger! We saw him on TV when he showed that bull who was boss and set the new record. I saw. Heâs the best.â
Tuckerâs warm chuckle rang with good humor and not self-importance as she was expecting. âHold on there, little cowboy, I just had a good day. You didnât see me a month later getting thrown off a bronc five seconds in and breaking half the bones in my body.â
That was exactly why she couldnât fall for a man like Tucker.
Denverâs January cold had crept into her bones. Sierra Baker shivered, rescued her hand-knit cardigan from the back of the uncomfortable black chair in the hospitalâs waiting area and watched a nurse pad down the hall to the busy nurseâs station. No sign of Tucker Granger yet. She wrapped her arms around her middle for comfort and thought of her six-year-old son in his room. He was waiting for a visit from the rodeo rider heâd specifically requested of the childrenâs wishing charity.
And the man was late. Her stomach had twisted into such a tight knot she could hardly breathe. Minutes had ticked by, minutes which had felt like hours, and anxiety was about to gobble her up.
Remember, God is in charge. That thought comforted her enough that she could settle back into her chair and gather up her knitting. The needles felt cool against her fingertips as she wrapped a strand of soft blue wool around the needle and began a row. It gave her something to focus on other than the fact her son was facing surgery bright and early in the morning.
Heâs going to be all right. She had to believe that. Her town pastor had encouraged her to be positive. Owen was in Godâs hands. She had to trust that this surgery to cure his heart problem would go flawlessly and he would be well.
âSierra Baker. Is that you?â A manâs amused baritone boomed across the waiting room, at odds with the somber, hushed tones around her.
Why did it have to be Tucker Granger? Of all the rodeo champions in the West, why did Owen want him? She and Tucker were from the same hometown. Theyâd gone through school together. She did not like him or the way he bounded into sight with his signature megawatt grin. That grin could make every eligible woman in a five-mile radius dream, but not her. He might be one of the most well-known bronc riders in three states, but her heart rate remained unaffected.
She folded up her knitting and rose from the chair. âYouâre late.â
âFifteen minutes, tops.â Tardiness didnât concern him, obviously. He simply flashed his double dimples, the ones that could make him outshine a movie star, and the cane he walked with became hardly noticeable. âIt was a battle getting from the airport. The planes are grounded. God was watching out for us because my flight was the last to land.â
âIâm grateful, for Owenâs sake.â She didnât want Tucker to think she was one of the poor, perhaps misguided women who thought a man chasing notoriety and a carefree lifestyle was attractive. Not just a carefree lifestyle, she corrected, glancing at the cane he leaned on, but a dangerous one. The whole town back home had been buzzing with concern when heâd been injured months ago at a competition.
Why did his eyes flash amusement, as if he were laughing at her? That was another thing she didnât want to like about the manâhis perpetual good humor.
âHow is the little tyke doing?â He turned serious and jammed his free fist into his leather jacket. Snow dusted the brim of his hat and the wide expanse of his linebacker shoulders. His deep, lapis-blue eyes radiated a genuine concern, reminding her of the boy she used to know when theyâd been in the same third grade class. The boy who had given her his lunch when bullies on the playground had taken hers. Sheâd almost forgotten that boy.
âOwen is doing as well as can be expected.â She took a step toward the nurseâs station. âThatâs why I was waiting out here. I want to talk to you before you see him.â