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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.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_355bf725-d65e-55d7-845e-393e5e3f2037)
CLAIRE SHIELDED HER eyes from the bright morning sun the next day and scrutinized the pickup bumping up the ranch’s drive. The truck’s tall tires kept the road grit from its polished silver exterior. Definitely someone well-off and not from around here.
Her shoulders rose and tensed. Life these days held a constant drumbeat of worry. And the grim bass percussion underneath it all: Money. Money. Money. Were these the Carne Incorporado reps Tanner mentioned? If so, she had to intercept them. Stop whatever deal he planned.
Claire stood up in the flower garden. When the truck crunched to a halt, she dusted her knees and headed to meet the stranger. Jonathan, stretched out on the porch swing reading, marked his page with his finger and glanced over.
To her dismay, Tanner ambled up, dark hat tipped low, square jaw emerging from the brim’s shadow. Her heart took a tumble as it had done, irritatingly often, since they’d spoken yesterday.
Lately she couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so handsome. So Tanner. She knew the arc of his lower lip, the strength in his shoulders. The way he meticulously tucked his shirt into his jeans, the way his boots were worn down at the heel, the way he touched that scar on his jaw without realizing he was doing it.
She shouldn’t have sought him out alone in the pasture. Cracked open the container where she’d locked memories of him away. Now they leaked into her thoughts. A constant drip.
Two men emerged from the truck, slammed the doors and strode to Tanner with extended hands and confident grins. Her jittering nerves turned to flat-out irritation at Tanner’s wide-planted cowboy boots and straight-backed stance. He exuded authority. Command. As if he owned the place. Already ran it. Her jaw tightened. Like heck he did.
Her sandals churned up pebbles and when she joined the two men, Tanner raised his voice. “Bill Sanchez and Rick Ortis, this is Claire Shelton, Martin’s daughter. Claire, these are the reps I mentioned from Carne Incorporado.”
The middle-aged men, dressed in well-cut suits that looked oppressive given the balmy temperature, tipped their hats. Pressure built inside Claire. How to handle this?
The one with a thick moustache and large round glasses, Bill, grasped her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Nice country you got up here.”
She put on a smile that didn’t feel like one. “Thank you. Would you like some sweet tea? You must have had a long trip coming from—” Her voice trailed off. Her mind twisted until the place came to her. “Mexico City.”
“It was worth the drive,” the second man, Rick, replied. “We’ve been anxious to get up here since Tanner phoned.”
Rick shook her hand, his moist palm pressed briefly to hers. She itched to wipe it on her cut-off jean shorts but checked herself. Tried to exude professionalism despite her Daisy Duke outfit. Her eyes traveled down her soil-dusted black tank top and bare legs. Why hadn’t Tanner mentioned their arrival time?
“Tea would be nice. How about after we’ve toured the barns?” Bill pulled off his hat and waved it in front of his full, flushed face. “Something to look forward to while we talk business.”
