Chapter 6
six
Briar removed her current work-in-progress from the easel and moved to stash it in the bedroom closet. The easel folded up easily, and she put that away too. She loved the light coming in the west windows, though the storm had turned the day mostly the color of cold rocks.
She sighed as she turned back to face the couch, which stood against the wall just inside the door. Briar loved the dark leather, and a slip of weariness pulled through her as she reached to remove the back-rest cushions.
The full-sized couch only had two, and she set them on either side of the couch, then started pulling off the seat cushions as well. Straining, she lifted and pulled out the metal frame holding the air mattress.
The couch in the living room could be folded flat to make a double bed too, as the previous owner of this farm has used this cabin as a guest house for his family before he’d hired her.
His family had mostly stopped visiting by then, and Clive had been going to see his daughters and stay with their families instead of them coming to the farm.
A wave of nostalgia that made no sense to her swept over Briar. Clive Hollowell had been incredibly kind to her, though, and he’d always treated her like his own daughter. She smiled fondly and reached for the remote to inflate the air mattress.
“More like a granddaughter,” she murmured to herself. He’d been one of the first people in Briar’s life who’d taken one look at her, smiled, and drew her into a hug. Even now, she could feel his arms around her, telling her she’d be safe here, and that she could move into this cabin.
Briar had treasured it every day since.
“But he left too.” She supposed she couldn’t blame him for passing away, and she didn’t. Not really. His death had simply been a reminder that life was constantly in motion, and it wouldn’t slow down or stop just because Briar wanted it to.
She had carved out a few years of peace and serenity here, but she’d been feeling a great change coming for several months now. Since the coyote attack, really.
“Since Tarr,” she whispered.
The tall, dark, delicious cowboy hadn’t arrived at the cabin yet, though he’d dropped her off a couple of hours ago. He’d texted only a few minutes after that, saying he wanted to go get some groceries and wondered if she needed anything.
She’d given him a few essentials, because if Tarr would bring her eggs, milk, and English muffins, why not? Then maybe he’d make her the breakfast sandwiches he once had after staying over to make sure she took her medication on time and wasn’t in too much pain.
He made a mean sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich, and Briar needed to get her chub of breakfast sausage out of the freezer. She made up the bed with navy blue sheets and a blue, white, and gray-checkered comforter.
She replaced the cushions back on the couch to bridge the gap between the mattress and the back of the piece of furniture, and she turned to get the pillows out of the top of the closet. After fluffing them appropriately, she stood back and surveyed her handiwork.
“He should be comfortable here,” she said, and she left the painting studio in favor of the kitchen. She had no idea how she’d be, sleeping under the same roof as him when she was whole and not hopped up on narcotics.
She busied herself in the kitchen, emptying her dishwasher and setting water to boil in her electric kettle. She stepped out onto the back porch and hurried to the lean-to to make sure she had gasoline for the generator.
She did, as she’d lived through many winters in places colder than Colorado, and she knew to be prepared.
She’d just ordered a cord of wood, and it had been delivered only a few days ago. She brought in several armloads, and then she stood in her living room, anxiety and impatience running through her in equal measure. “Where is he?” She pulled out her phone and checked the time.
Almost four o’clock.
She looked at Wiggins, who lay on the couch, curled into his typical ball. He only moved his eyes, and he’d lose his mind in a bark-fest if someone pulled up to the cabin. Therefore, Briar didn’t need to go check.
She walked around the couch and out the front door anyway, telling herself she was checking on the weather. Sure, she’d just been out here to get her last armful of wood, but she hadn’t specifically checked on the snowfall.
It wasn’t currently snowing, but the wind had picked up. Briar wrapped her arms around herself and watched her driveway, then the road leading back to the cabin. Tarr’s big black truck didn’t appear, and she turned back to the cabin with a small huff.
The sun would set soon, as in the winter, the daylight would be gone in the next hour. She grabbed her phone from where she’d left it on the kitchen counter and tapped out a quick text to Tarr as she went down the hall.
I’m going to jump in the shower real quick. Then you can have all the hot water you want later.
Now that she knew the RV didn’t have running water, she wondered what Tarr had been doing for showers.
“Probably stopping by Tuck’s.” She ducked into her bedroom and grabbed her robe, though she didn’t normally use it. But Tarr could show up at any moment, and she didn’t want to be caught having to duck across the hall in only a bath towel.
Just come in if you get here in the next fifteen minutes. Briar plugged in her phone and set it on her nightstand. Then she picked it up again. Oh, and an ETA would be nice. Just saying.
With that, she hurried into the bathroom and twisted on the water in the tub. Twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror drying her hair when she heard Wiggins barking.
Her heartbeat leaped up into the back of her throat too, and when Wiggins stopped causing a racket, she figured Tarr had walked in the way she’d told him to.
“It’s me,” he called, and Briar heard him over the blow dryer.
“Okay,” she called back. “I’ll be right out.” She never could quite erase the curl in her hair, but sometimes she really tried. Tonight wasn’t going to be that night, though, and she stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes before switching off the appliance and taking a deep breath.
She met her own eyes in the mirror, mentally told herself the truth for the day—You can do hard things—and went to meet Tarr in the kitchen.
She found him there, of course, holding open two cabinet doors as he looked inside. Irritation flashed through her, but she tamed it just as quickly. Still, she couldn’t stem the feeling completely that her private space was being invaded.
“What do you need?” she asked.
He glanced over to her. “I got you a big box of those chocolate-vanilla pudding cups, and they don’t all need to be in the fridge.”
Briar moved over to the Lazy Susan in the corner. “I usually put stuff like that in here.” She pushed on the door, and the turntable started to move.
He grinned at her and closed the cupboard, where she kept her coffee, tea, sugar, and other baking supplies. “I’ve got a few things too. Maybe they’ll fit in there?” He turned and took the single step over to the island she’d installed herself after moving in.
He picked up several little cups of microwaveable macaroni and cheese, Pasta-roni, and Rice-a-roni. A grin burst onto Briar’s face. “Your broccoli-cheddar rice? Yeah, I’m sure it’ll fit in there.”
“Are you making fun of my broccoli-cheddar rice?”
Briar lunged toward him as he lifted a tower of the cardboard cups and it started to tip. “No,” she said as she grabbed a couple of the top containers. “I’m making fun of this…parmesan pasta.”
“It’s delicious,” he said. “Ready in three minutes, and it goes great with chicken or steak.”
Briar already knew Tarr could cook, and he did put together quick meals morning, noon, or night. He’d never fed her out of the microwave though, and watching as he put his favorites in her corner cupboard made her grin grow.
She took in the other groceries, which he’d already unbagged, and reached for the eggs sitting on the counter.
She filled the fridge with the things he’d brought, while Tarr found a spot for the pantry staples.
He shoved all the bags into one, and when they finished, he faced her and held up the ball.
“Do you keep these?”
“Yeah.” She nodded to the slim cabinet between the stove and fridge. “I keep them in here.” She took them from him and smashed them onto the top shelf with all the other grocery bags she’d brought home at some point.
She hardly ever used them, so they threatened to rain down on her, filling the kitchen with plastic, but she slammed the cupboard quickly before that could happen.
Tarr chuckled. “So I’m going to avoid that cupboard.”
Briar didn’t want this to be weird. She reminded herself that Tarr had spent plenty of time in her cabin. He’d slept in her bed with her, for crying out loud. This would be way tamer than that, and she nodded down the hall.
“Come see your bed for however long you need it.”
Tarr took a couple of steps around the other end of the island and stopped in the mouth of the hallway. Briar thought he’d turn and lead the way—this cabin only had two bedrooms, after all—but he didn’t.
“However long I need it? I thought I was just staying here for tonight.”
“And yet, you brought twelve cups of Rice-a-roni.” Briar’s eyebrows went up. “And a pound of strawberries, and—”
“Those are for you.”
“—almond milk, and—”
“Almond milk travels,” he said.
Briar put her hand on her hip and tilted her head as she glared at him. “Tarr, do you think winter is only going to last for one night?”
“I can’t move in with you for the duration of winter,” he said.
“Then don’t,” she said. “But I can’t in good conscience send you back to a porcupine-invested, smoke-filled, non-functional RV.”
“My living situation isn’t ideal.”
“Ideal?” Briar shook her head and started toward him again. “Tarr, it’s insanity.” She gave him a pointed look and brushed past him. “I made up the couch in the studio. It’s an airbed, so it should be nice.”
She led the way, glad when Tarr’s cowboy boots sounded on the wood behind her. She stayed out in the hall, but indicated that he should go in.
“You put your painting away,” he said.
“It doesn’t fit with the bed up,” she said simply. “And I don’t do a ton of painting in the winter.”
Tarr dropped his duffel bag in the far corner and put his backpack on the bed. “I thought you were doing that sculpting class next month.”
Briar’s pulse blipped through her body, really jumping in the vein in her neck. “What? When did I tell you that?”
“You didn’t tell me,” he said. “You made me sign up for you months ago, as soon as the community center released their winter classes. You said it would fill up if you didn’t sign up on the first day, but you had a bad headache and couldn’t even look at your laptop for long enough to do it.
” By the time he’d finished talking, Briar had remembered.
“Oh,” she said, because he had signed up for her.
Months ago.
“I think you said something about a hot shower?” Tarr unzipped his backpack and lifted out a toiletry bag. Of course. The man had lived on the road for a lot of years, and nothing about him was disorganized.
Briar nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, go ahead and shower. I’ll make us something for dinner.”
“If you want,” Tarr said. “You don’t have to cook for me, Briar.” He came toward her, and Briar’s nervousness reached new heights.
“Well, I have to eat too.” She ducked away from him just as he arrived in front of her, and she practically ran down the hall and into the kitchen. Her heartbeat thundered up into the back of her throat, only calming slightly when she heard the click of the bathroom door.
The shower started a minute later, and Briar set about steeping herself a cup of tea and baking off a couple of ham-and-cheese-stuffed chicken breasts. She rolled some miniature white potatoes in olive oil, salt, and pepper, and added them to the oven.
By the time Tarr came down the hall, smelling like sagebrush and woodsmoke, dinner was almost ready.
“That was mighty nice,” he said as he joined her at the bar. “Thank you, Briar.” He put his arm around her and squeezed her a little closer to him. He always put off such great energy, and Briar allowed herself to relax.
“Where’d you go all day?” she asked. “Because it doesn’t take almost five hours to get some groceries.”
“Maybe traffic was bad.”
“Tarr.”
“Fine, I went through the RV and packed up everything I thought I shouldn’t leave inside.
I took all of that to the barn storage. Then I made sure the RV was secured—no reason to give raccoons and porcupines—or anything bigger—to think they can live there this winer. Then, I went to town for groceries.”
Briar still didn’t think that would take that long, but she didn’t press the issue. “Okay, well, I had some chicken cordon bleu, so I put that in with some potatoes. I’ll just make a quick sauce to go with them.”
She got up to do that, and she’d just flipped the gas on under the pan to heat cream, butter, salt, garlic, and parmesan cheese when the lights in the cabin went out.
Her breath left her body in a whoosh too, and Briar stood very, very still as she waited for the electricity to come back on. It didn’t, and she turned around after several long seconds of silence.
“Great,” Tarr said, and he sounded disgusted.
“I have a generator,” she said. “And I brought in a ton of wood.”
“Then we’ll be fine,” Tarr said.
The timer on the oven went off, and Briar spun to silence it and get their dinner out of the oven. “This is gas, so we should be able to cook.” A franticness moved through her nonetheless, and her hands seemed to flap around as she started adding ingredients to the frying pan.
Then Tarr eased into her side and said, “Hey, we’ll be okay,” in that velvety, sultry voice. She’d long wanted to ask him if he’d ever thought about being in a country music band, but she’d never done it.
“I’ll start a fire while you finish dinner, and we’ll eat by firelight, okay?”
She nodded, because Briar couldn’t get her voice to say, “Okay,” in return. He stepped away from her, and Briar tipped her head back and pressed her eyes closed as she silently prayed, Dear Lord, did the power really have to go out? Isn’t the situation already awkward enough?
She sighed. I guess if this is how it’s got to be, then bless me to come up with the patience and conversation I need to treat Tarr right.