“Yeah,” he said. “But there’s no water or electricity on the property yet.”
Briar’s eyes widened and she searched his face. “How are you surviving there, then?”
“I installed a wood-burning stove last week,” Tarr said. “But, well, the truth is….” He ducked his head and kicked an embarrassed grin at her. “I don’t think I have the stovepipe exactly right, because I woke up in the night coughing, and the place was filled with smoke.”
“Tarr,” Briar said, plenty of chastisement in her tone. “That’s not safe. You could have died.” She exhibited the same fire and disdain for him that she always had and—oh—Tarr really liked it.
“Yeah, but God woke me up,” he said. “I put the fire out, aired out the place, and crawled back under my down blankets and sleeping bags.”
“Plural?” She frowned at him, an expression Tarr was quite familiar with, thank you very much. “You cannot live in a place without heat in the Colorado winter.”
“Yeah, I was here last year,” Tarr said. “Thanks, Mom.”
Briar scoffed, but she didn’t release his gaze as she cocked her head. “You should move back in with Tuck.”
“I’m not moving back in with Tuck.” Tarr lifted his head and looked out into the restaurant. “Maybe if a certain someone would loan me Wiggins, he could keep me warm at night.”
“You are not taking Wiggins,” Briar said. “I don’t want you to call me in the morning and tell me my dog’s frozen to death.”
Tarr chuckled and shook his head. “Wiggins won’t freeze to death.” He sighed, completely unsure about what to do with his housing situation. Playing Briar’s game, the truth was, the RV, in its current condition, was not going to last him through the winter.
“I think I’m just going to get a hotel,” he said. “They have these long-term ones with kitchens and stuff, and it’s not like I can’t afford it.”
Briar leaned back into him again. “Yeah,” she said. “But then you’d have to drive onto the ranch, and sometimes that’s really hard to do when it snows a lot. They close the roads here sometimes, Tarr.”
“Yes,” Tarr murmured.
And with Tuck, Bobbie Jo, and Rosie all going to Vegas for the NPR event, someone had to be there to maintain the farm, feed the animals, and keep things running.
“Maybe a hotel won’t work,” he said. “Maybe I could just stay in the house while Tuck’s gone.”
“I don’t get why you can’t stay there all winter,” she said. “It’s a seven bedroom house. It’s practically like having your own apartment.”
“Yeah, I don’t know either,” Tarr said. “There’s just something telling me it’s not a good idea.”
His buzzer went off, and he lifted it so Briar could see the flashing blue lights. She stood first, and he followed her to an intimate table that he hoped would be able to hold their cups of coffee and a little pitcher of cream, let alone their breakfasts.
The conversation moved on, and Briar actually shared a little bit about her wood crafts, and mentioned that she’d signed up for a watercolor class starting in January.
By the time Tarr turned off the highway and back onto the farm, he had self-congratulations running through his head for a great breakfast date.
“Take me by the RV,” Briar said, no sign of a question mark in sight.
He eased his foot off the gas pedal. “What? Why?”
“I want to see the extent of the smoke damage.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and it sure felt calculating.
“Briar, it’s fine,” he said.
“Then let me see it.” She turned fully toward him then, and she cocked one eyebrow at him in challenge.
“You’re a real pill,” he said, but he turned his truck to the left instead of the right when he reached the fork in the road.
“You should meet yourself,” she shot back.
Tarr chose not to respond, and he caught the flap of the clear plastic sheeting that had been secured over his poured foundation as the wind picked it up and tried to rip it away. He went past that to the run-down RV, now thinking he simply needed a better one of these.
Water and electricity will still be a problem, he thought, the words hissing through his head.
