In the end, Wiggins gave her away, catching sight of her only a moment later and barking a good morning to her.Bark, bark, bark-bark!he went as he wagged toward her, and Briar imagined him to be saying,Happy birthday, my human.
Briar bent to pat her dog, effectively getting him to quiet down. “Morning, Wiggy,” she said to him, leaning down to scratch along his neck and down his back.
“Hey, there you are.” Tarr abandoned the work on the stove and came to greet her. “Happy birthday, honey.”
She let him wrap her up tight in his arms—something else Tarr was incredibly good at.
“You’re cooking?” she asked. “I thought you said we were going to lunch.”
“We are going to lunch,” he said. “But you have three meals on your birthday, and you gotta start the day strong.”
Briar leaned back in his arms and smiled up at him. “You’re going to be annoying all day about this, aren’t you?”
He chuckled. “You know, some might call it attentive.”
Briar stretched up to give him a morning kiss. “If you get sick of me, you can leave,” she said.
“Don’t worry. It’s not me who’s going to be sick of you, but I’ve built in some alone-time for both of us.”
“You have? Do tell.”
Tarr took her hand and led her back into the kitchen. “I’ve got the schedule right here on the whiteboard.”
A whiteboard? Briar did not own one of those, but Tarr obviously did, as one now stood on an easel at the end of her dining room table, an enormous vase of blood-red roses besideit. His cowboy handwriting was nowhere to be found, and instead Briar recognized the more feminine slant of Bobbie Jo.
She moved to the end of the counter to read the schedule, frowning after only the first line. “Our chores aren’t on here.”
“Nope,” he said. “Because you’re not doing chores today, and neither am I. It’s a day off.”
Briar turned toward him. “The whole day?”
“Just read the schedule, sweetheart.” He flicked off the flame on the stove and moved the pan to the counter. “I’m going to be toasting the English muffins and doing eggs next, and then we’ll be ready to eat.”
“Okay,” Briar said absently, her gaze locked on the schedule once again.
After breakfast, he’d scheduled a pedicure for her. That would apparently take ninety minutes, as their next appointment was lunch sometime between eleven-thirty and noon. After that, he’d put “open first round of presents,” and then by three they needed to be somewhere.
Briar’s breath left her body. “A couple’s massage, Tarr. You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I don’t think any man is stupid enough to be kidding about something on their girlfriend’s birthday.” He grinned over at her. “You said you used to like massages when you were stunt riding.”
“I did. I do.” She gazed at the board. “I just haven’t had one in so long.”
“It’s just laying there,” he said. “I think you’ll remember how to do it.” He grinned at her. “And I’ll be in the room too.”
“Yeah?”
“They assured me we could be as private as we wanted. You can go in first, for example, and get situated under the blankets, and I’ll come in after you. We have access to a swimming pool,sauna, and hot tubs afterward,” he said. “So we can take our swimming suits and stay until they close.”
“What time is that?” she asked.
“Mm, I think they’re open until ten,” he said.
Briar knew they would not be staying until ten o’clock, because the next thing on Tarr’s schedule read “dinner with Wiggins.” She reached down to pat Wiggy, who stood right at her side. “Where’s dinner?” she asked.
“Right here,” he said. “Back at your place. There will be a choice menu, and you’ll tell me what you want and I’ll make it.”
“You didn’t plan the meal?”
