His phone vibrated in his hoodie pocket, a garment he’d grabbed out of the barn before climbing into the saddle andgoing for this ride. He pulled it out and swiped on the call from Tuck. “Hey,” he said, and his voice sounded somewhat normal. Guarded, maybe, but normal.
“Hey, where you at?” Tuck asked, and Tarr detected something in his friend’s voice.
“Riding Skunk,” he said. “Why?”
“He’s out riding,” Tuck said, obviously not to Tarr. “Okay, just wondering.”
“You’re just wondering?” Tarr’s irritation spiked. “Why? It’s not like I give you a minute-by-minute itinerary of my day.”
“I thought you’d be at the house, laying down the floor,” Tuck said. “I stopped by to bring you….” He trailed off, and Tarr really wanted him to continue. He remained quiet, though, because Tucker couldn’t stand silence.
After only a moment, he sighed loudly. “Fine, I came by to bring you those gross spicy hot Doritos you like, because Bobbie Jo found them at the gas station on our way home from what could finally be ‘the one’ for Jim and Linda.”
He paused only long enough to suck in another lungful of air. “It’s a nice little condo. Anyway, we have the chips, and I don’t want them in my house, so we stopped by your place. And I found a big pot of soup on your countertop, your truck in the driveway, and the house empty. I was worried.”
“Aw, thanks, Tuck,” Tarr said with a smile. “But I’m fine.”
“Are you alone?”
“Do you think Briar would be out here riding with me?” Tarr chuckled, the sound definitely darker than he wanted Tuck to hear. He’d tried to get Briar to go horseback riding with him, and she’d declined forcefully enough for him not to ask twice. She claimed to have gotten back in the saddle a time or two, but she much preferred keeping both feet on the ground, feeding goats, and throwing a ball for Wiggins if they both got too restless.
Tarr craved the wide open sky, nothing but the rush of the breeze in the leaves in his ears, and his own wits to try to center himself and find a way through the busyness and noise of life to the path he should be on. He’d like it even more with his beautiful Briar at his side, but he quickly shook his head, cutting off the thought.
Briar wasn’t his, not truly, and she probably never would be. She wanted to belong to herself more than to someone else, and Tarr would have to figure out what that meant for him.
“I mean, I don’t—” Tuck cut off again. “I have you on maps, so I can keep an eye on you. When do you think you’ll be back?”
“I don’t know,” Tarr said, the fight blowing right out of him. “I was going to try to finish the flooring in the house tonight, but I’m tired.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Tucker said. “Another few days in the RV isn’t going to matter.”
Tarr tried to hear what Tuck really meant between the words. “You hate the trailers.”
“Yeah, but it’s a few days,” Tuck said. “We’ve had Bobbie Jo’s parents living with us for months, and I’ve learned that I can do anything for a few days.”
Tarr smiled again. “Are they any closer to finding their own place?”
“You mean are me and Bobbie Jo any closer to finding them their own place.” Tuck didn’t phrase it as a question. “And yes, as a matter of fact. We went to look at a house this afternoon; that’s why we stopped by the gas station and then your place on our way home.”
“Maybe you need my house more than me,” Tarr said, an idea popping into his mind. “Her parents can have it, and I’ll find somewhere else to stay—not the RV.”
“Tarr—what?” Tucker scoffed. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s summertime now,” Tarr said, though the lower the sun sank in the sky, the cooler it got, definitely telling him it was not summertime. “I can rent somewhere nearby and just commute to and from the farm. Isn’t that what Alex is going to do?”
“Yeah,” Tucker said slowly. “But Tarr, buddy, you bought that land from me. It’s yours, and not even part of the farm anymore.”
“Yeah.” Tarr sighed like what Tuck had said was a major wrench in his life plans. “All right, well, I’m going to go out to that meadow that Bobbie Jo keeps for the hottest part of the summer.”
“Did you eat?” he asked. “That soup pot—I couldn’t tell if Briar had left it for you or if you’d eaten before….”
“I’m fine,” Tarr said again, giving Tucker zero details. “You’ve got me on maps, and I’ll be back before dark.”
“All right,” Tuck drawled, and Tarr let him end the call. He turned Skunk toward the meadow on the northeast side of the pasture where he currently rode, not quite ready to go back yet.
He wanted to see Briar desperately, while another part of him hoped he’d never run into her again. His heart flipped over in his chest, and his stomach twisted. No, he’d be devastated if he never got to see her again. Even a glimpse of her from a distance might be enough for Tarr.
“You’re delusional,” he whispered to himself, and then he set her out of his mind and tried to enjoy the farm the way he wanted to, as Tarr Olson, a man who wore his emotions on his face, said too much, pushed too hard sometimes, and had just had his heart broken by a woman who’d made it very clear to him from the first moment they’d met that she might never be able to be truly his.
