She didn’t need Tarr Olson to fight her battles for her, though she’d literally been praying and wishing someone would take her side for years now.
“You can’t have it both ways, Briar,” she told herself. Then she ducked into the small vet office where she kept her mobile kit and went to tend to the horses.
Later that afternoon, someone knocked on her door, and Briar raised her head from that morning’s paperwork, something she was completing a little bit later than normal thanks to Rosie’s arrival.
“You haven’t been answering any of the texts,” Tarr said, leaning one broad shoulder into the doorjamb of her office.
She could only hold his gaze for a moment before she reached for her phone and flipped it over. “I forgot I put this on silent when I was dealing with the horses. It’s nothing personal.”
“Oh, I think it is.” Tarr didn’t enter her office, though she wished he would, so she could close the door and stop this conversation from leaking out somewhere else.
“It’s about dinner, isn’t it?”
“It’s about dinner,” he confirmed. “And Bobbie Jo’s making herself sick with worry, so it would be great if you could reply.”
Briar nodded, because no, she didn’t want to upset Bobbie Jo or Tuck. She also didn’t want to go to dinner tonight at their house with Cole, Rosie, and whatever Cole’s wife’s name was. Briar had been so inside her head, she couldn’t remember it.
“I’m going to head back to the cabin and shower,” Tarr said. “But there will be plenty of time for you to do that after me.”
“I’m fine,” Briar said.
“Yeah, I know you are,” Tarr said. “No one’s saying you’re not.”
“Can you come in?” Briar asked, and she got up and slipped by him to close the door herself. He moved further into the office, crowding into the corner by her desk, and she leaned her back against the wood.
“I didn’t mean to act crazy,” she said.
“You didn’t act crazy.”
“She threw me for a loop,” Briar said, needing him to understand. “I haven’t been recognized in years, and I certainly wasn’t expecting it from a twenty-year-old.”
“Well, you know how teenagers are,” Tarr said. “They have online relationships with celebrities that feel real to them.”
“I’mnota celebrity,” Briar said.
“But sweetheart, youwere.” Tarr hooked her with his dark eyes and wouldn’t let go.
Briar didn’t look away. She heard the things he didn’t say:You were a celebrity and you didn’t tell me.
Why couldn’t you tell me you were a stunt rider?
Why did I have to find out through Rosie?
His eyes said it all, as Tarr had never been good at keeping his thoughts and feelings off his face.
“I’m sorry,” Briar said, her heartbeat thrashing now for a whole new reason. “Maybe I was a celebrity at some point, but that’s not who I am now, and that’s not the life I want now, and I don’t know how to handle situations like that.”
“She feels pretty bad,” Tarr said.
“I’ll apologize at dinner.” Briar swallowed, because a public apology in front of her bosses and owners of the ranch wasn’t exactly on her to-do list.
“You could say thank you too,” he said.
“All right,Dad,” she threw at him, instantly regretting the sarcasm. “I mean—” She sighed and sagged against the door. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told her thank you and been polite and talked to her like Tuck’s client. I know they’ve been really nervous about her arrival, and I messed it up.”
“You didn’t mess anything up,” Tarr said.
“How did you explain it?”
