His Kind Of Cowgirl

“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.”