Читать книгу His Kind Of Cowgirl - Karen Rock - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCLAIRE STOOD ON the wraparound porch of their large, two-story farmhouse and zipped a thin sweatshirt over her tank top. A clammy, shivery sensation crept up her legs. Her father had changed his mind without consulting her or Dani, whom she’d called before bed last night. Worse, he considered Tanner their savior.
A bitter noise escaped her. Of all people, the man who’d once wrecked her life was now supposed to save it? Her hands curled. Like heck he would.
She lowered her thermos then strode beneath laden magnolia trees along a fenced-off grazing area on their 15,000-acre ranch. Beyond it stood a couple of red-sided barns that housed equipment and their show livestock. Farther away still milled a breeding herd in another of their twenty pastures, the tin loafing shed empty. A bull bellowed in the distance.
At least Tanner had a kitchen in his separate housing unit. Bulls to tend. No reason for him to visit the main house or stop by the horse stable she managed. He wouldn’t see much of Jonathan or her. Still, she needed him gone, not just absent. Needed to remove the possibility that he’d learn the truth about Jonathan. Yet doubt lingered. Was she wrong to keep him in the dark about having a son?
She shook off the traitorous thought. Kevin was Jonathan’s father. Tanner hadn’t even stuck around long enough to know about her pregnancy. He’d wanted fame, not her.
On the other hand, didn’t Jonathan deserve to have a father? And didn’t Tanner deserve to know the truth?
She rounded a bend and emerged into dappled sunlight.
No.
She’d made the right decision not to include Tanner. It was senseless to question it now. Her spirits rose when she considered Tanner’s short-lived interests and how seldom he focused on anything for long. Whatever had drawn him here would lose its charm and he’d leave. She had to make sure that happened before they lost their buyer and the bank foreclosed.
At least he hadn’t come for her. Restlessness zip-lined through her. Not that it should matter...
She reached the horse stable and turned to stare at her family’s two-story white country house, its lines old-fashioned but stately. Morning glory and moon vines twined around the porch’s newel posts, peppering the building with bursts of color. It was beautiful. Most of all, it was home. Except for her seven-year marriage, she’d lived nowhere else.
How would Jonathan handle leaving it and returning to public school when she found a job and couldn’t homeschool him anymore? Would his bellyaches return? Those nights when he cried himself to sleep?
Claire’s head throbbed. Nobody ever told you that being a mother was all about making what seemed like thousands of tiny decisions, some as painful as broken glass.
She had to let the ranch go and so did her dad. No sense delaying the inevitable. Putting it off only made their situation worse. She’d block every change Tanner tried to make until she drove him away. The sooner the better.
A horse nickered and she stepped inside the dim rectangular building. Dusty, a dapple-gray quarter horse, arched her neck and eyed Claire, her black nostrils blowing. More horses appeared at their doors, nosy to see what Claire brought them today.
“Hey, Dusty.” She stopped to pet the horse’s velvet nose and slipped her a carrot.
Another horse snorted and bobbed its sleek mahogany head. “Would I forget you, Athena?” She stroked the paint horse’s corded neck and blond mane as it munched on its treat. Athena’s similarity to her old barrel racer struck her again. How many years since she’d ridden? Ten. Not since her eighteenth birthday. The day of her accident. Still, she’d never stopped loving these gentle giants even if she wouldn’t ride them. Fear trickled down her spine. Ever. It took all her willpower to simply lead these tried and true horses in the ring with her beginner students and give instructions to her more proficient riders without giving in to her anxiety.
To calm her nerves, she sang like always.
“Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam, and the deer and the antelope play...”
She moved down the line, doling out her treats, getting a quick visual on each animal before beginning her chores. A wiry four-legged body dashed between her legs.
“Home, home on the range,” she continued, glad only the animals could hear her. What had her son called her singing? A punch in the ear? Yikes.
Roxy lifted her muzzle and howled along, her tail beating the gnats out of the air.
Claire crouched to scratch her pet’s scraggly chin. “You’re so cute, even if you are the bearded lady of dogs. Thanks for the accompaniment.”
After grabbing a rake, she set to work on her morning chores, the mindless tasks temporarily chasing her worries away. She had riding lessons lined up starting at nine and needed to hurry to get breakfast and a shower before then.
A couple of hours later, she trudged up her porch steps and nearly collided with a tall man wearing a T-shirt and jeans covering well-worn boots.
Tanner.
Vivid blue eyes flashed from beneath a brown cowboy hat. Her heart picked up tempo at the hard, handsome curve of his lips, the flecks of stubble along his square jaw. His nose was straight, his chin dimpled. Skin tan, hair brown and waving. Body wired with energy. Tanner seemed spring-loaded, as if he was searching for something. He was perception and grit. Ambition and strong coffee. She could have looked at him forever. Their eyes locked.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted, flustered and more aware than she should have been of his sculpted arms and long legs.
His eyebrows rose. “Stopped by to ask your father a question and he invited me for breakfast.”
“So you’re done? Leaving?”
“Haven’t finished my bacon yet,” he drawled and chucked her gently under the chin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
She sputtered, the spot where he’d touched burning like a brand. “Wasn’t concerned about that.”
He swerved on the bottom step and peered up at her, his eyes gleaming. “If you’re anxious about my food getting cold, just put it in the oven for me. I’d appreciate it.” His mouth curled in amusement.
“I think certain places might freeze over first.”
He tipped his hat then strode to his quarters, chuckling.
Obnoxious, infuriating, arrogant, pestilence of a man.
With a groan, she dashed upstairs and jumped into the shower. If only she could linger and keep from running into Tanner again. But with a student scheduled, she had to rush. Plus Jonathan would be downstairs. She needed to stay vigilant around them.
After a quick towel off, she pulled on jean shorts and a T-shirt. She trapped her unruly curls in a fishtail braid and slid on her boots before clomping back downstairs.
To her dismay, Tanner sprawled in a chair at the table, seeming to take up more space than anyone else in the room. His eyes dropped to her feet then rose slowly to meet hers, and the warm appreciation in them darkened the shade to a deep blue. She flushed. He had no right looking at her that way. But hadn’t she done the same when they’d been outside, a voice whispered accusingly.
“Morning, Dad.” She kissed the top of her father’s head then returned Jonathan’s hug, studiously ignoring the man making her nerves jump. “How’d you sleep, honey?”
“Good. Here, Roxy.” He leaned down and fed his scampering terrier a bacon slice.
“Honey. No feeding the dog at the table.”
The antennae-like hair over Roxy’s eyebrows twitched as she hunkered on the floor and began chomping, her jaw snapping open again when Jonathan snuck her another piece.
“Jonathan. What did I say?”
He shrugged, eyes glimmering and full of false innocence. “You said no feeding Roxy at the table so I did it under the table.” His mischievous grin made Claire’s lips twitch. “I didn’t break a rule.”
“You sure bent it. What am I going to do with you?”
“Feed me to the dogs?” He flopped upside down on his chair and dangled his wrist to Roxy. “Want a bite?”
She headed for the stove and filled her plate with eggs and toast. “What are you going to do today...besides disobey your mother?” Marie, the housekeeper Claire’s father hired after her mother’s death, handed her a glass of juice. “Thanks.” The dark-haired woman returned her smile. It hurt, imagining they’d be letting her go when they sold the ranch, but luckily she already had plans to move in with her pregnant daughter in Arizona.
“Finishing my Benjamin Franklin report then maybe work on my model plane.” Her son kept his head lowered, but she noticed his eyes flicking toward Tanner.
Her father nudged Jonathan. “Let’s get out today, son. Marie will drive us into town. How about an ice cream at Harrigan’s?”
Claire held her breath, hoping Jonathan would agree. He loved ice cream as much as any kid, but he rarely wanted to go into town knowing he might run into some of his old classmates. His counselor had warned them not to push him into activities that heightened his insecurities, so Claire stayed quiet.
“No, thanks, Grandpa.” Jonathan chopped the rest of his bacon with his fork, scattering it around his plate.
“How about riding with your mother?” put in Tanner.
Martin’s spoon clattered to the table and Jonathan’s eyes grew round. Claire’s breath stalled. “Momma. You don’t ride.”
“She used to be the best barrel racer in the area. Could have been a champion.” Tanner raised his juice glass as if toasting her.
“Enough, Tanner.” Claire tamped down the old rush of excitement at his admiring expression. She wasn’t that woman anymore and she didn’t want her son’s head filled with crazy ideas. Worse, Tanner made her remember a side of herself she’d let go. Wouldn’t want back.
Jonathan scooted to the edge of his chair. “I want to learn to ride, but Momma won’t let me.”
“Jonathan,” Claire warned, shooting the cowboy a glare over her son’s head.
Tanner smiled wide, seeming to enjoy her ire, which, of course, only fired her up more. “I’ll take you, sometime, if your mother gives the okay.”
“She doesn’t.” Claire tossed her cold toast back onto her plate, her appetite gone. How dare Tanner overstep and interfere with her parenting? First the ranch, now Jonathan? He was getting under her skin in the worst way.
“How’s your day lined up, Tanner?” her father asked in the tense silence. He wiped his mouth but missed the stiff side. Claire leaned over and dabbed at the egg in a move too fast for a man’s pride to register. She hoped...
“Mostly I’ll be looking things over. Did a bit of that last night with the breed stock. I’ve got a rep from Carne Incorporado coming up from Mexico City tomorrow. He’s a fan and friend who’s looking to improve the company’s beef with better breeders. I’ve also got my eye on a couple of bulls that could go for six figures at auction. Revelation’s one.”
Her father whistled and leaned forward, the red veins on the end of his nose filling. “That’s my top stud. And Carne would be the biggest company we’ve worked with, yet. What’s the chance of us getting a contract?”
Tanner shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Hard to say.”
“May I have a word with you, Tanner?” Claire shoved her chair back and stood. “Outside, please?”
He studied her for a moment before he nodded. Roxy bounded after them then leaped off the porch to chase squawking chickens.
“You’re raising my father’s hopes for nothing.” Her voice was indoors quiet, falling through the wide sunshine. “We’re not large enough to interest big players like that.”
Tanner gripped the porch rail and his forearms clenched as if he braced himself against her arguments. “Your father’s got great seed stock. Large corporations like Carne will want to buy it.”
She swayed a little, and her mouth clicked open. A bigger ranch meant more pressure on her fragile father. No. This business connection could not happen.
“A corporation like Carne has no loyalty to Denton. Even if they made an offer, they could easily pull out and leave us in even more in debt down the road.”
He pulled off his hat and a small breeze ruffled his hair. “Well, this is how I see it. If we auction some of our top studs and syndicate others, selling stakeholders exclusive rights to their semen, we can get buyers talking about Denton again. Attract even more investors than Carne. We’ll use the cash to expand and fill bigger and bigger quotas.”
“Too risky,” Claire fired back, struggling to keep her voice down. “Selling the ranch to Mr. Ruddell is safer.”
Tanner leaned a boot on the porch’s lower rail and tilted his head, studying her. “And safer is always better.”
“Of course.”
“Sounds more personal than professional, Claire.” Tanner’s voice was soft and flat.
She flinched, knowing he referred to her change of heart about rodeo...and dating a bull rider. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He pushed off the rail, all tanned arms and square shoulders, his demeanor infuriatingly cool. “Guess that’s for you to decide. As for the ranch, not taking risks is what has put it behind the times.”
“Just stop,” she pleaded, her voice rising despite herself.
“Stop what exactly, Claire?” When he sauntered close, she breathed in his familiar scent. Leather and livestock. It scrambled her thoughts for a moment.
“All of it. Why do you care?”
He resettled his hat and squinted at the rising sun for a long moment. “I care, Claire.” He started down the steps, his words falling over his shoulder. “More than I should.”
* * *
TANNER PEERED AT a worn, creased paper, light bouncing off the page. The late afternoon felt like summer, pails of sunshine spilling through scuttling clouds, brightening the whole pasture. Dandelion seeds drifted on a low breeze and spiky ragwort flowered yellow.
“Plank position. Drop the knees. Hands underneath the pecs not the shoulders.”
He ripped off his damp T-shirt and tossed it onto the ground beside his hat. In a swift move, he dropped into the springy grass, stretched out for the fancy push-up and executed thirty. His healing rotator cuff ached but he forced another set. Yoga was no joke. It kicked his butt. Sweat ran down the sides of his face and slicked his back and chest. He’d been at his physical therapy for an hour. Almost time to quit.
He held up the paper again, scanned it and stuffed it back in his jeans for the last time. Knot pose. On his belly, he crossed his bad arm under his chest then reached forward with the opposite hand, a deep drawing of the muscle. Still felt tight, but looser than it had a week ago. His therapist was right about yoga.
Tanner had scoffed at first. Thought it wouldn’t be a challenge. A smile crept across his face. What an idiot. These easy-looking moves worked him harder than any bull. And his hand, wrist, arm and shoulder muscles felt stronger...critical in his job.
After his last bad landing, he’d worried his career was over. At this rate, he might get into shape, after all. With no savings after a mismanaged investment, he had no other option but to ride...unless his idea to start a rodeo school, renting space and buying Denton Ranch’s more aggressive, mixed breed bulls, worked out. It’d be the first time he put his mind, not his grip, to use, and he didn’t have as much faith in the former... Not when his occupation had been so good to him.
He rolled over. Meditation time. He slowed his breathing and let his body sink into the earth the way he’d been shown. Cleared his mind and pictured a peaceful spot. Denton Creek. Where he and Claire had picnicked and swum while dating.
“Tanner!”
He blinked up into the blue sky. Had he imagined Claire’s voice? It’d sounded real.
“What are you doing?”
Nope. Not a dream.
He leaped to his feet and sauntered over to the metal fence. As he watched her unlatch the gate and walk inside, his heart rate picked up a notch. There was no denying she was beautifully made, with long graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of her torso to the dip of her waist. The sun skidded across her face when she looked up at him. Dark green eyes and a full mouth that didn’t give an inch.
He breathed in the fresh scent of her as she passed by, a one-of-a-kind mix of wildflowers, horses and the outdoors, that brought on memories he’d better forget again in a hurry.
“Are you hurt?” Her eyes ran over his bare chest then lowered, a pink tint darkening her cheeks as her eyes lingered on the kidney-bean-shaped birthmark beside his navel.
“I was meditating. Yoga.”
“That’s a joke, right?”
Tart-tongued gal. Her sarcasm had always challenged him. Made him want to kiss the sting right out of her until she melted, sweet and willing, in his arms. No other woman excited him this way. Lit him up the way rodeo did.
“Not if I want to rehab this shoulder.” He grabbed a handkerchief out of his back pocket and mopped his brow. “What can I help you with? Didn’t think you wanted to see me much.”
Wariness curled in her eyes like smoke. “I don’t. But I called my insurance company and they’re not covering the truck repairs because of my ticket. I wondered if you had any ideas.”
His thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “A few.”
Claire leaned against the fence and slanted him a skeptical look. “I called the auto body. They said it’d take time to locate the specific parts, and lots of labor. It’s going to cost a fortune.”
He rested a hand on the fence rail beside her shoulder. “Let me figure that out. I’m having it towed here in the morning. Already called a mechanic to see if he’d work off-hours to help.”
She angled her head and the red curls that escaped her braid blew across her face. “And then what? You’re going to fix it?”
The scoff in her voice sounded all too familiar. Voices from his past telling him to not even try. It only fired him up. “That’s the plan. I want Jonathan to work with me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Jonathan? He would never. I would never...”
Unable to resist, he tucked a wavy strand behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh. She shivered, despite the sun melting all around them.
He forced his mind back onto the conversation. Claire was magnetic, pulling him in when he’d had no intention of getting close again. “You’re coddling him. He should have gone out with Martin today. Be doing things. Working with his hands.”
“He makes model airplanes,” she exclaimed.
“Will he ever fly a real one?”
Her eyes shimmered. “Too dangerous. He wouldn’t want that.”
“He should. Let him work with me.” Having grown up without a father, he felt for the kid, wanted to help Martin’s bid to get the boy out into the world.
For a moment, Tanner caught a weakening in her resistance, in the rounding of her eyes, the softening of her mouth. He leaned in, drawn to this glimpse of the old Claire. After a moment, she shook her head and ducked under his arm.
Back at the gate, she whirled. “When are you leaving?”
His lips twisted. “Planning a going-away party for me?”
Her eyes rose to the sky. “Why did you come back? Really?”
“I want to help your father.” The truth. Mostly. She didn’t need to know he had to save himself, too. Or he didn’t want her to know, he admitted. Then there was his growing preoccupation with Claire. Being around her messed with his head. Filled him with thoughts he’d had under control for years.
Claire’s eyebrows lifted. “And...?” she prompted.
“That’s it,” he said firmly.
“So this isn’t about us?” Her shoulders hunched and her words came out in a muffled clump he strained to hear.
“Do you want it to be?” The question leaped out of him too fast to lasso back.
Her eyes met his, the questioning expression making his pulse thud. Hard.
At last she shook her head. “We both made our choices.”
He recalled how sure he’d been that she’d come around once he succeeded at rodeo. Letting her down when she’d given him the ultimatum—her or rodeo—had seemed the lesser of two evils. She hadn’t known him when he’d spent his after-school hours in detention and struggled to graduate after an extra senior year. Rodeo was the only thing he’d ever been good at, and he hadn’t wanted her to see him fail at a regular job.
“The right ones,” he muttered, hanging his head and raising his eyes.
Her shoulders squared as she examined him, green eyes dull, just a little too wide. “So, nothing’s changed.”
His nod felt heavy. Dishonest somehow. “Nothing’s changed.”
Without another word, she unlatched the gate and strode away, leaving him with an empty feeling that didn’t sit right.
He’d been on his own for ten years. Had worked hard to finally put her out of his mind. And now here she was again, muddling a straightforward plan to help Martin and a gamble to save his own future.
He headed back for his shirt and hat.
Claire affected him more than he’d bargained for. She was a complication, but he was doing this in spite of her, not because of her.
He pulled his brim low and watched her bright head disappear down a small hill.
Best he remember that.
