She’d come with the farm for a year, and that meant they’d only have her for another month. Tarr didn’t involve himself in the business side of things, because he hadn’t bought the farm. Tucker had, and he’d sold four acres to Tarr for his cabin and land.
No matter what, Tarr didn’t get to decide to keep Briar on as their vet once the new year started. He wanted to ask her if she’d met with Tuck about renewing her contract or whatever she needed to do to stay in her house and on the farm.
But he didn’t want to complicate anything by starting a conversation, especially since he could never predict how it would turn out. The question of a breakfast date with her teemed beneath his tongue, but Tarr had had so much practice holding back what he really wanted to say to Briar that he didn’t let it out.
They made the eighty-minute drive back to the Deerfield farm in silence, and Tarr finally cleared his throat as he walked Briar up her steps to the front door.
“So, I was thinking Yolks Up for breakfast,” he said. “I can do an online reservation and let you know what time I’ll be here to get you.”
He wasn’taskingabout breakfast, but pure fear shot through him when Briar turned toward him, those gorgeous eyes—which could be so sharp—sinking into him. He swallowed, but otherwise didn’t move and managed to remain silent.
Enough time went by for Wiggins to circle at her feet and lay down, and Tarr definitely felt like the dog, as they were both at Briar’s mercy. Tarr was just about to say, “Please,” again when everything that Briar kept boxed tight inside her fell.
She put one palm on Tarr’s chest, smoothing down something imaginary there. If she had any idea what her touch did to him….
“All right, cowboy,” she said, and she looked up at him again. “But nothing too early, okay? I’m still kind of in a food coma from all that pie.”
Tarr chuckled and ducked his head, catching Briar’s hand as she let it fall from his chest. “Nothing too early,” he promised. “And you know, you didn’t have to try the coconut cream, the key lime,andthe pumpkin.”
“Yes, I did,” Briar said, her smile wide and glorious. It painted light and joy through Tarr, and he wondered if she could feel herself smiling so beautifully. He hoped so, because he didn’t think Briar experienced much happiness in her life, and he yearned to give that to her.
With that, she squeezed his hand and then released it, moving the few steps to her door. She opened it and said, “Let’s go, Wiggy.”
Wiggins didn’t look at Tarr for permission. He simply trotted inside. Briar nodded at him again, and Tarr did the same, lifting his hand to tip his hat at her before she disappeared into the cabin and brought the door closed between them.
Tarr practically floated back to his truck, and he couldn’t remember the drive back to his RV at all. He whistled as he rotated his keys around his fingers and went up the steps and into his temporary dwelling.
The fact that it didn’t get any warmer now that he stood inside brought Tarr harshly back to reality. He quickly moved over to the wood-burning stove that he’d installed last week, and though his hands shook, he couldn’t stop smiling as he built a fire that would hopefully keep him from freezing to death overnight.
“Please, dear God,” he begged. “I’ve got to make it through one more night, because I finally have a date with Briar in the morning.”
four
Briar brushed smoky eyeshadow over her eyelids, the same way the woman in the “get ready with me” video did. No, she’d never look like the women online, because she wasn’t a size zero and blonde. But she thought her makeup came out just fine for a Black Friday breakfast at a yuppy place in the Highland Square area of the city.
Tarr had texted only a half-hour after dropping her off, telling her Yolks Up had a nine-fifteen and a ten o’clock reservation. She’d opted for the ten AM one, because they’d have to drive thirty-fives minutes just to get there, and she didn’t want to have to be ready before nine o’clock.
She got up from her vanity and reached for the dark brown sweater she’d laid out on her bed. She’d paired it with a pair of black jeans, and she pulled on her ankle boots about the time Wiggins started barking.
He ran down the hall toward her, his claws skidding on the hardwood floor as he went “Bark! Bark! Bark-bark!” He looked at her, barked again, and took off out of the bedroom and down the hall again.
At least Briar knew no one could get into the cabin without her knowing. Still. “Wiggins,” she complained as the dog came back toward her. “I hear you. It’s just Tarr.”
Just Tarr.
More false words had never been spoken. Nothing about Tarr was “just” anything. The man exuded power from his broad shoulders, and he moved with fluidity and grace. She’d never seen him try something he couldn’t do perfectly, and she somehow fit exactly against his chest and could fall asleep in his arms in less than ten seconds flat.
Wiggins jumped onto the couch, his front paws on the back of it as he nosed his way through the curtains covering the front window. He barked against the glass, and Briar shook her head as she reached for the doorknob.
She opened the front door and pulled it toward her, half-hoping a witch had visited Tarr in the night and cast a spell on him. He’d have to endure being an ogre, and then Briar wouldn’t feel so inferior in his presence.
Sadly, Tarr had not turned into an ogre overnight, and the god of a cowboy stood on her front porch in a pair of dark wash denim jeans with a dark gray shirt tucked into an impossibly big belt buckle. He wore a black leather jacket over that, with that deliciously matching hat perched just-so on his head.
“Morning,” he said in that smooth, bass voice that made Briar sigh.
“Good morning,” she said back. “Do I need my purse?”
“I don’t see why you would,” he said. “Unless you want to walk around the shops or something.”
