Page 82 of His Tenth Dance

“I thought you tried not to tell lies.” She swept her fingers through his shorter, still-sexy hair. “Because we both know your grandfather is your favorite person.”

“Both can be true,” he whispered as he cupped her face and guided her mouth to his.

twenty-six

Briar Prescott enjoyed the easy gait of her horse beneath her. Sagebrush performed every movement with grace and power, and she didn’t make Briar ask twice.

Once Briar had put her through her exercises for the day, she moved her into a walk and adjusted her cowgirl hat so that it covered her face, ears, and neck. In the open pasture, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, memories of a life that belonged to a different woman from a different time crowding into her mind. They’d been doing that a lot more since Tucker Hammond had bought the farm and facilities and turned it into rodeo training grounds.

The very thing Briar had retreated from had caught up to her.

The movement of Sagebrush beneath her was as familiar as breathing, and Briar knew the exact moves it would take to go from sitting in the saddle to standing in it. She’d had extraordinary balance her whole life—even after that fateful day that had changed everything for her.

“You’re a fool if you think you can outrun the rodeo,” she told herself.

Her eyes opened as Sagebrush lifted her head, and Briar reached for the reins to hold the horse exactly where she wantedher. If she hadn’t wanted anything to do with rodeo, or cowboys, or country living. Briar could’ve chosen a city to settle in. Veterinary assistants were needed everywhere.

A slip of guilt moved through her that not everyone who worked at Tucker’s place knew she wasn’t a full-fledged vet. In fact, Briar suspected he was theonlyone who knew—and he hadn’t even told Tarr, his best friend.

Oh, Tarr Olson was going to be the death of Briar. She’d known it from the moment she’d laid eyes on him several months ago, framed in the doorway of the mansion Tucker had bought. Tarr had been staying there and getting it ready for him while Tuck was off training one of his newest stars. And Wiggins, the dog with a wandering heart of gold, had immediately sniffed out the weakest link on the ranch.

Tarr.

He was as dark as midnight on the outside and as bright as noon in his personality. Even now, a small curve lifted her lips, and Briar scoffed out a sound of disgust as she straightened her mouth back to flat.

But Tarrwaspersonable and funny, extremely good-looking, and talented with every animal he encountered.

She shelved him in her mind, the way she’d been doing since she met him. It would do no good to dwell on things she couldn’t have—just like she tried not to let her thoughts linger on a life that had come and gone.

“This is your life now,” she said out loud, her voice firm, almost demanding that she recognize it and admit how good it had become.

She had virtually no bills, and the responsibilities around her small cabin and parcel of land were things she actually enjoyed doing. She got to spend the rest of her time with cattle and horses and goats.

Oh, the goats. She’d found she quite enjoyed them—and she’d met an unexpected friend in Bobbie Jo Hanks. The woman reminded her of the friends Briar had once had, but with far less makeup and hairspray.

Bobbie Jo was tough, strong-willed, and smart. She also knew when to let others lead, and she’d allowed Tucker to rope her heart completely, both things Briar had never been good at.

Bobbie Jo and Tuck would be married in only another couple of weeks, and since Bobbie Jo had been hanging out here at the farm for eight months now, she’d asked Briar to walk in the wedding party as a bridesmaid. By some miracle, Briar had agreed.

“Let’s go back, girl,” Briar said to Sagebrush, and she gently guided her with her heels to turn and head back to the epicenter of the farm, where Tucker had been gracious enough to allow Briar to stable her horse.

She’d lost sight of Wiggins at some point, and now she reached up, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled. That usually got the mutt to come if he was anywhere within hearing distance.

She’d found the dog on her solo trek from Calgary to Colorado, and she’d bonded with the stray instantly. They’d both been cast out, left behind, and forced to find their own way in the world.

But they approached things very differently these days.

Wiggins thought every human or other living creature he met had come just to see him. He loved them all and had enough room in his heart to take them as they were.

Briar, on the other hand, had closed every door around her. Built walls as high as she could. She actually did manifestation exercises where she told herself she didn’t need anyone else. The only person she could trust was herself—and she shouldn’t even try with others.

The previous owner of the facility had been kind, yet distant, and allowed Briar to participate on the ranch as she saw fit. But Tuck and Tarr were humans cut from a separate cloth—one where they wanted the people around them to be like family instead of acquaintances.

She and Tucker had actually had one quite heated conversation about exactly that, and it had been Bobbie Jo who’d finally laid her hand on Tucker’s forearm, looked at him, and said, “Not everyone is like you. Let her be who she is.”

That was only another reason Briar liked Bobbie Jo so much. To be honest, Tucker’s status had lifted significantly as he’d acquiesced to his fiancée, looked at Briar with that blazing fire still burning in his eyes, and said, “All right, Briar. As long as you keep showing up to work and doing a good job, I’ll leave you alone about this.”

And he had.

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