Page 54 of His Tenth Dance

She’d only been here a few years, and he couldn’t understand why she didn’t just go find another job. She had the veterinary degree. Surely, there were dozens of places that would take her knowledge and experience.

She’d flat-out told him she only wanted to befriendsandneighborswith him. But then, why did she want him to put on his shirt?

“I have to go out of town,” she finally said, swallowing. “It’s not until next week, but I need someone to take care of Wiggins.”

“Yes,” Tarr said automatically. “I’ll do it.”

He wasn’t sure if jumping straight to the acceptance made him a fool or pathetic. Probably both, but right now, he didn’t care.

“Do you want to bring him over to the house, or do you want me to stay at your place?”

Her eyes finally landed on his, pure horror filling them. “You can’t stay at my place.”

“Okay,” he said easily despite the bite in her voice. “I mean, you’re not going to be there. I just wasn’t sure if that would be easier….” He trailed off as her hazel-eyed gaze continued to sharpen.

“I’ll bring you everything you need for him,” she said.

“How long are you going to be gone?” Tarr asked, though it didn’t really matter.

“I’m leaving on Thursday afternoon,” she said. “I’ll be home around the same time on Monday.”

“So just a quick weekend thing,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, but her tone came out haunted. “Just a quick weekend thing.” She looked down at their feet, something very vulnerable streaming from her.

Tarr knew she had a past—everyone had one, after all. He knew hers had the rodeo in it, whether she liked it or not. The very male, very protective side of him wanted to take her hand in his and whisper things about how he would never, ever hurt her, and that he would protect her from whatever ghosts in the past still plagued her.

Instead, he backed up a step, knowing that space—for Briar—was like oxygen. And that moving on when things got uncomfortable was her love language.

“So…do you want to help me with the sign?” he asked.

She looked up and nodded.

“Great.” He pointed to a spot a couple of feet over. “Stand right in front of it and tell me if I need to lift it higher or lower on whichever side.”

He pulled the shirt over his head, then walked back over to the sign and picked it up. He bent down, grabbed his nail gun, and climbed back onto the stepladder.

As Briar bossed him around—lift it a titch higher on the left, now a bit lower on the right—Tarr thanked the good Lord above for softening her heart enough to ask him to dog-sit Wiggins.

If this is a door being opened,he thought.Help me to walk through it the right way.

eighteen

Deacon Hammond entered the farmhouse where he’d grown up and moved past the formal living room and down the hall to where the house opened up into a massive kitchen, dining room, and living room. A front office sat around the corner, and Deacon had visited his father there many, many times.

Cosette had texted him that she’d put his monthly paperwork there and that it needed to be signed by five o’clock tonight. When he’d become the owner of the farm, he hadn’t realized how muchpaperworkhis father and brother had done.

He knew he was lucky to have Cosette, and he had no idea what he’d do when the woman decided to retire. She probably still had a good ten years in her, and Deacon pushed away the worry.

“Hey, Jane,” he said to his sister, moving over to give her a side squeeze at the island. “How’s Molly today?” He glanced into the living room, where he often found his sister-in-law sleeping in the afternoons.

“Hunter just took her out for a walk,” Jane said, and Deacon nodded.

“I just saw her parents leaving.”

“Yeah, they’re going to town to get a few things,” Jane said. “I know her mom’s coming back tonight.”

Molly had been out of the hospital for a week, but she still struggled with all the classic symptoms of a concussion. Hunter had sent horrifying photos of deep blue and purple bruising down the left side of her ribcage and toward her hip.

---