His Kind Of Cowgirl. Karen Rock
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