His Kind Of Cowgirl. Karen Rock
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.
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