His Kind Of Cowgirl

They rolled up to a stop sign and idled. Out of the gloom bounded a pair of braying Labradors, breaking the potent silence that stretched between them. At last, her vocal cords unstuck. “How do you know that?”

His forearms flexed as his fingers tightened on the wheel. “Heard about him from your father.”

Her stomach clenched. “Then he told you I married nine years ago.”

It hadn’t been hard to convince her dad Kevin had fathered Jonathan, since she’d truly fallen for the wonderful man who’d married her three months after Jonathan’s birth. Her father couldn’t have shared anything incriminating with Tanner...

“I’m sorry about Kevin.”

His sympathy fired through her, making her uncomfortable in her own skin. He had no business talking about her husband. Or Jonathan. She leaned her head against the window and stared out at the dim roadside pastures as they flashed by.

“Dad should have mentioned your visit.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed the bumps on her arms.

Intensity deepened the light creases that bracketed his mouth. “I asked him to. Must have forgotten.”

Claire thought over her father’s recent absentmindedness. It could have slipped his mind... Still, why hadn’t he consulted her right away? If he had, she might have stopped this catastrophe. Tanner staying with her family? On her ranch? Impossible. He would be a bad influence on her boy and her fragile father.

“How are you two still in touch?”

“When my tour group passes by he comes to watch and we go out to eat. Talk on the phone around the holidays.”

“Birthdays, too, I suppose?” Bitterness colored her tone. How had her father kept this from her? Then again, he’d hidden the ranch’s desperate finances. They passed Mr. Ruddell’s ranch, his pear trees flanking the wagon wheels at the start of the drive.

“Sometimes.”

Her temperature rose at his offhand admission. She knew her dad wished he’d had a son to help with the bulls, and Kevin had been more interested in machines than livestock. When she and Tanner had dated, her father had treated Tanner like family. Even trusted him to work with their prize animals, sorting their breeding stock, keeping the best for their program and selling the rest privately or at auction.

“How long is Dad’s invitation?”

Tanner rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s open-ended. I’ll be gone once I get the all-clear, though.”

A short laugh escaped her. “Sounds right.”

“Claire—”

She waved off his appeal. “Look. Whatever my dad and you planned...please forget it. Tell him you stopped by to say hello, wish you could help, but another commitment came up.”

“I didn’t expect you still felt that strongly.”

“I don’t.” The rise in her voice made her pause and swallow her agitation. She wouldn’t give Tanner the wrong impression...let him think he still affected her.

“We just don’t need your kind of help.” Don’t need you, she added silently. Her increasingly withdrawn son could use a father figure, but not someone like Tanner. Never him.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “And what kind of help is that?”

“The type that ends with people in hospitals,” she snapped, her control breaking. Lightning forked down the road. An exclamation point on her mood.

He blew out a long breath then said, “You know I wouldn’t have dared you to try out that new barrel horse if I’d known her history.”

Claire’s head throbbed harder as she recalled the weeks she’d spent in the hospital and then at home with a shattered pelvis, fractured skull and broken ribs after a competition practice gone bad more than a decade ago. “That’s the thing. You rush into everything. Don’t consider safety. Worse, you push others, too. It’s all about the thrill.”

“Better than the way you’ve been hiding ever since the accident.”

His words echoed in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth opened and closed. After her accident, quickly followed by her mother’s death, Claire’s world had spun out of control, her emotions as bruised as her body. Her priorities shifted, transforming her from a young woman who never considered safety to one who understood human frailty and the importance of family.

Dani’s dude ranch only allowed her a couple of weeks off, and Claire hadn’t wanted to leave her grieving father alone to follow Tanner. And even if she had, how would she have coped watching the man she’d loved risk his life every day? Impossible. No. She’d made the right choice in giving him that ultimatum, as painful as his answer to it had been.

At last, she whispered, “These have been the happiest years of my life.”

He ran a hand through the flattened hair at his crown. “We’re almost there.”

He flicked the blinker and turned onto a road only a mile from her drive. The truck’s leathery scent grew strong as rain drummed around them, closing them in when all she wanted was to escape.

“You’re not staying here.” The words came out of her mouth strangely, making a flat splat like the water against her window.

The truck signaled then turned again before Tanner answered her.

“Let’s hear your father out.”

Another turn had them swinging, at last, onto Denton Creek Ranch’s long drive. When they stopped, his warm hand fell on her arm before she could bolt.

“I’m not playing some game, Tanner,” she exclaimed, “This is my life. Not a competition.”

His eyes tightened in the corners, small flares appearing. “You used to like competing.”

She thought back to her old rodeo dreams, how she’d once imagined crowds cheering her name.

“That girl’s gone. Some things matter more than winning. I wish you’d learned that lesson.”

“Maybe I should have,” he said beneath his breath, his voice so low she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

He settled his hat on his head and ducked out of the truck, leaving her to stare after him.

Whatever his plans, she’d stop them. It’d taken a good man’s love to reassemble her broken world. She wouldn’t let Tanner Hayes smash through it again.

* * *

TANNER REMOVED HIS hat and thrust open the porch’s screen door for Claire. He studied her, drawn, as he’d always been, by some intangible quality. Something in the way she moved, in the straight back and the swing of her shoulders, her quick-fire expressions.

“Dad!” she called. A small terrier charged them and sprang as high as Tanner’s belt buckle, barking.

“Settle down, Roxy.” Claire scooped up the yapping dog and kissed it on the nose.

He followed her into a large, adobe-style kitchen and spotted her father and a young boy seated at a long oak table, hunched over chocolate cake.

“Hello, Martin.”

The man looked up, surprised, before one side of his mouth twisted in a smile, the other frozen in place. Dismay filled Tanner to see his old hero brought low, followed by a fierce conviction to restore him and his ranch to their former glory.

“Hey, Tanner. Glad you made it, but...” The furrows in the old man’s brow dug in deeper. “Didn’t expect you for another week or so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Claire’s sundress dripped as she crossed the room and placed her hands on her father’s rising shoulders. She’d always been a loving daughter. Had been devoted to Tanner that way once. What if they’d never split? Would she be caring for him now, too? Helping him figure out his bleak future?

Martin peered up at her. “Thought I had more time.” His deep-set green eyes narrowed, disappearing inside heavy lids. Under the harsh light, the extent of Claire’s scrapes made Tanner suck in a fast breath. It unsettled him. Seeing her hurt. Knowing he’d caused it. Again. A reminder that he was no good for her.

“And why are you banged up? Are you hurt?”

The freckled young boy watched Claire under pulled-down eyebrows, rabbit-gnawing absently on his cake. Tangible proof that Claire hadn’t really loved Tanner. She had a child whose age meant Claire had moved on to another man fast. Had found love, marriage and a family—everything she’d wanted that Tanner couldn’t give. But what if he had...he wondered, eyeing the youth. If he’d chosen Claire over rodeo, this could be his son.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

Claire scooted around the table to kiss his cheek, their sunset-colored hair mingling. “I’m just fine, honey. I had a little accident and Mr. Hayes drove me home. Why don’t you and Roxy go upstairs? I’ll be up in a bit for a story. Guff and Lottie.”

“Can I take my cake?”

His shoulders drooped when Claire shook her head. “You know the rules. Take a last bite and scoot.”

The child shoved a fourth of the slice into his mouth and bolted from the chair, cheeks bulging as he chewed. When he neared Tanner, he skidded to a halt. “Cool belt buckle.”

“Upstairs, please.” Claire pointed. “I’ll sing you a song, too.”

The jittering boy froze, his eyes widening. “Do you have to?”

Claire’s dimples appeared, deep parentheses around her lovely mouth. Tanner forced his eyes away. Shoved back the memories of kissing her tenderly, passionately... He hadn’t come here to rekindle an old flame.

“Only if you don’t hustle. I’ve been dying to sing more lullabies.”

The boy made a gagging sound and clutched his stomach. “I’m going!”

She gathered him close and squeezed. “I’ll be up soon, buster.” The motherly gesture did something funny to Tanner’s gut. Made him regret something he couldn’t name.

Released, Jonathan returned Tanner’s smile. Roxy barked madly as they dashed up the stairs.

“’Night.” Tanner grinned after the kid. When he glanced at Claire, her features looked pinched, her eyes pained.

Martin cleared his throat. “I want to hear more about this accident.”

Claire dropped to a seat and propped her elbows on the table. “I’ll fill you in later, okay? First, Tanner can’t stay. He’s reconsidered.”

Her father pinned Tanner with a sharp look. “That true, son?”

He pulled out a chair and sat. “Claire would rather I leave.” The smell of strong coffee permeated the tiled room and suddenly he wished for a cup. His knee jittered until he clamped a firm hand on it. He and caffeine didn’t mix so well this late at night. It’d been a heck of a day and seeing Claire again had unnerved him more than he’d expected.

Martin patted his daughter’s arm, his clumsy movement tough to watch. He’d always been Tanner’s idol. A father-figure to a boy without one. He owed Martin more than he could repay, though he’d sure try. Sweat equity for starters, and changes that’d get the ranch back in the black. With luck, he’d find a way to save his own future, too.

“That’s for me to decide, Claire Belle. Not saying I shouldn’t have told you first. Maybe I got confused at the date.” The man peered at a Barns across America wall calendar beside an encased, folded flag—for a brother lost in Vietnam, Tanner recalled. “Looks like I did. Sorry about that, Tanner. I promised you I’d warn her.”

Tanner nodded. “Not a problem, sir.”

Claire pointed a spoon at her father. “It is a problem. You agreed to sell Mr. Ruddell the ranch and his offer expires in sixty days. We don’t have time to mess around with Tanner and his risky ideas, whatever they are.”

Her father’s palm thudded on the table, making the milk in the glass slosh. Tanner echoed the frustrated sentiment. Martin needed help and Claire shouldn’t interfere.

“I was born here, Claire. Planned on living out my days here, too, then passing it down to you and Jonathan. Thought I’d lost the chance until Tanner offered to help. Plan on him being our guest for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” she gasped. Her fingers flew as she wound her damp hair into some kind of bun. The back of her neck looked burned and for a moment the crazy urge to rest his cheek against it seized him. To see if her skin felt as soft as he remembered.

“What have you two planned? If we miss the sale deadline, the foreclosure happens only a month after that. Then you’ll lose everything, including the money you need to pay for a spot alongside Uncle Bob at the assisted living facility. Dani’s going to chip in, but she can’t come close to covering it all.”

Tanner looked out the dark window. Yes, the stakes were high, but didn’t she see how much her father needed this shot?

Martin wiped his mouth after another bite of cake. “Tanner’s got contacts to improve our sales and ideas to strengthen our stock. Plus, he’s got plans to make some money here for himself, too. Seems like a win for us both.”

Tanner met Martin’s eye, silently acknowledging Tanner’s proposed business venture. Martin had said he could count on Tanner and that confidence felt good. Honest. Earned. Or it would be...because no matter what Claire said, he wasn’t leaving when he was needed so badly. When he needed to be here, too.

“Dr. Ogden said not to let you get worked up. And the assisted living facility has the rehab you need to make a full recovery. Don’t you care about getting better?” Claire picked up her son’s plate and strode to the kitchen sink.

“I’d rather go all in than fold, darlin’.” When Martin reached for the pitcher of coffee, Tanner grabbed it and filled a cup.

Claire jerked around. Her eyes locked with Tanner’s and he read the emotions washing through them. Hurt. Resentment. Concern. Most of all...love for her father.

“What about how I feel?” she asked, returning to her father’s side. “What Jonathan wants? He’s already lost a father and you’re all he’s got. You mean more than saving the ranch. A million times more.”

The stricken look on Claire’s face made Tanner knot his hands under the table to keep from going to her. She wanted nothing to do with him. She’d made that clear enough.

Her father patted her cheek, his weathered face gray under the yellow overhead light. “I want to provide better for you and Jonathan. Restore the ranch to what it used to be while I still have the strength to try. Give me that peace of mind before I meet my Maker.”

Tanner nodded at Martin. That was exactly what he aimed to do. They both had to succeed.

“Stop talking that way, Dad.” Claire twisted a napkin and the shredded paper snowed on the oak table.

Her father lowered his chin and two more appeared. “Most times I think you’d be happier off the ranch.”

“That’s not true.” Yet her denial rang false. Tanner knew how uncomfortable she’d become around large, untrained, unpredictable animals after her accident. How she’d pleaded with him to stop riding bulls. It’d been the sticking point in their relationship, the issue they couldn’t get past, until it’d broken them apart.

“If you want more advice, we could hire a consultant.” Her insistent voice rose and her skin flushed a dull red. “Tanner doesn’t need to stay here.”

He didn’t flinch when her eyes swerved in his direction. There was a snip of silence. She wasn’t running him off.

“With what money?” Her father sipped his coffee through a straw, then continued. “We can’t afford what it’d cost to hire someone with Tanner’s knowledge to turn things around, and Dani can’t get time off from work now that she just got promoted.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tanner affirmed. He’d promised her father and would see this through.

“Your best?” Claire pushed back her chair and paced before the brick wall-oven. “How many concussions have you had, Tanner?”

“Four. No. Five,” he admitted, recalling the doctor’s warning that one more serious spill could cause permanent brain damage. Maybe kill him.

But to envision another career? Impossible. He didn’t focus or follow rules well in regular jobs. Only rodeo’s wild rides gave his nonstop energy an outlet. Ironic that controlling a bucking bull felt more manageable than anything else. Still, soon he’d be thirty and getting old for bull riding. He had to figure out next steps or end up an aging rodeo clown, hanging out at the local honkytonks, swapping stories of glory years no one cared about or remembered clearly...not even him.

“Five? You should have stopped after your second, or third. You don’t care about danger, Tanner. I don’t know what you’ll come up with for the ranch, but I’m guessing it won’t be safe. Could scare my...” A grim layer stamped on her voice as it trailed off, a hint of desperation a sliver below it. She glanced toward the stairwell then looked down at her hands, hiding behind her eyelids.

Jonathan.

She thought his actions might endanger her child. The thought startled him more than it should have, a shock like a splinter jamming under a nail. He didn’t worry about danger. Couldn’t perform at his job if he did. But he’d never put a kid at risk. When he stood, his head brushed the dangling light fixture, making it swing.

“I’m going to make the ranch solvent again with no harm done. I swear it. ’Night, Martin.” He put on his hat and tipped its brim. “Claire.”

He strode outside to grab his bags, letting the porch door bang behind him. The rain had stopped and water dripped from every surface. His boots sloshed through puddles on the way to his pickup. He’d take it in tomorrow and see about getting it fixed. As for Claire’s truck... He’d find a way to repair that, too.

At the door, he turned and glanced up to see Claire standing in a window watching him. She whirled when he spied her, but not quickly enough to hide her tortured expression.

Like so many from his past, she didn’t believe in him. Funny how once she’d been his biggest supporter. He leaned against his truck and squinted at the glow behind Claire’s curtains. He pulled out a cinnamon stick and clamped it between his teeth. Times like this made him wish for the cigarettes he’d quit six months ago. But he was twenty-nine now. Old enough to know better. About lots of things.

So why, when it came to Claire and him, couldn’t he understand a single one?

CHAPTER THREE

CLAIRE 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.”