Chapter 7
seven
Tarr knelt in front of the fireplace and exhaled a steady stream of air onto the flame to encourage it to grab on to the kindling he’d tee-pee’d around it.
Behind him, Briar whisked, and the scent of butter and salt filled the air.
Tarr had never felt so domestic in his entire life, and something good and homey made everything inside him calm right down.
The first crackle of wood uniting with fire met his ears, and he quickly reached for another handful of shredded newspaper.
The fact that Briar had newspaper at all made him smile, but she’d claimed that she kept it for art projects. He wanted to see so much more of her art—her paintings, her woodcrafts, her sculptures, anything she would show him.
His phone rang, and Tarr looked away from the bright fire to see Tuck’s name shining on his screen. A zip of apprehension ran through him, but he reached to tap on the call.
After tapping the speaker icon, he said, “Howdy, Tucker.”
“Hey, where you at?” Tuck asked. “The power just went out, and we drove by your RV, and it’s totally dark.”
“Yeah, I’m not there,” Tarr said, knowing he couldn’t dodge his best friend’s questions. The walls of Briar’s cabin suddenly closed in around him, and he felt like he was shouting when he added, “I’m staying at Briar’s tonight.”
The fact that Tucker said nothing spoke volumes. The hum of the truck came through the line, so Tarr knew they were still connected. Then Bobbie Jo said, “You can both come here if you need to.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Tuck practically yelled. “We’ve got a generator and lots of food.”
“Briar has a generator too,” Tarr said casually.
“And you’re on speaker while I build a fire, just so you know.
” He ducked his head in a covert way to look over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see Briar, and he didn’t sense her drawing close to him.
“She brought in a ton of wood, and I went grocery shopping this afternoon, so I think we’ll survive the night. ”
“Will you?” Tuck asked, and his question had sharp hooks.
“I think so,” Tarr said, trying to keep his heartbeat as slow as his voice. Tuck and Bobbie Jo both knew that Tarr had spent more than one night with Briar.
But not while she’s healthy and whole, his mind hissed at him, and the three of them seemed to know it.
“I’ll check in with you in the morning,” he said. “Our dinner is almost ready.”
“All right,” Bobbie Jo said.
“Did you guys want to come here?” Tarr rocked back on his heels, swiped up his phone, and stood. He turned toward Briar. “I’m sure we could rustle up enough food for you guys. If you’re not even home yet—”
“We just ate dinner, and we were on the way home when everything went dark,” Tuck said.
“At five-thirty?” Tarr asked. “You guys seem a little young to be eating the early bird special.” He chuckled, and Briar turned toward him, a smile blooming to life on her face too.
“We were out shopping,” Tuck said. “And decided to stop before we came home.”
“Sure, all right,” Tarr said easily. “Well, I’ll touch base with you in the morning so we can go over the feeding schedule.”
“All right.” Tuck drew a breath in a way that Tarr had heard countless times before.
He quickly tapped the speaker icon and moved the phone to his ear so Briar wouldn’t be able to hear whatever embarrassing thing Tuck was going to say next.
The man really didn’t know how to hold his tongue, and most of the time, Tarr appreciated that fact.
“Hey, brother, just be careful, okay?” Tuck said. “I worry about your heart.”
“He has a good heart,” Bobbie Jo said. “Leave him alone.”
“It’s his good heart that I’m worried about,” Tuck said. “Briar has punctured it before, and he just keeps going back for more.”
“I’m still on the line,” Tarr said.
“I know you are,” Tuck griped at him. “I’m just worried about you.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Tarr said. “But I’m a grown man, and I think I can handle it.”
Tucker, once again, remained silent—his way of saying he wasn’t sure Tarr could handle it or not.
In all honesty, Tarr agreed with him. He could just see Briar squashing his heart again and then puncturing it with all of the thorns after which she was named. He’d retreat again, like a dog who’d been kicked, his tail between his legs.
But he’d come back. He knew he would, because something about Briar called to his soul, and just like he hadn’t been able to leave her home alone yesterday, he couldn’t imagine a scenario where he could turn his back on her and walk out of her life for good.
No, she would have to be the one to do that to him. And yes, then he’d have to figure out how to stem the bleeding from all the holes she would leave in his heart.
As he watched, she flipped off the flame underneath the pan where she had been making the sauce, and Tarr knew dinner was ready. “Hey, we’re going to eat,” he said. “I’ll text you later.”
“Bye, Tarr,” Bobbie Jo called, and Tarr hung up as she hissed something else to Tucker about being more supportive of his best friend. Tarr knew Tuck loved him and supported him in anything and everything, and it sure felt nice to have someone worrying over him.
“Are they coming for dinner?” Briar asked.
Tarr shoved his phone in his back pocket as he took the few steps into the kitchen. “No, ma’am,” he said. “They got dinner on their way home.”
She nodded and indicated the pan, which now sat on her island next to the chicken cordon bleu and the roasted potatoes. “I don’t have a vegetable, but we could open a bagged salad or something.” She looked at him with apprehension in her eyes.
Tarr simply grinned at her. “I don’t need to eat something green with every meal, honey. I’m an adult.”
Briar’s shoulders went down, and she ducked her head too. “All right. Well, then let’s eat.”
“Do you mind if we pray?” He’d left his cowboy hat in her spare bedroom, but he reached up in a nervous gesture and ran his hand through his hair. “I can just say it real quick, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” she whispered.
In the quickening darkness, only punctured by the flickering firelight several feet away, Tarr reached for her hand as he bowed his head.
His fingers fumbled over hers, but he managed to align them and tighten his grip before he said, “Dear Lord, I sure am grateful to be here in Briar’s house during this winter storm.
I’m pretty mad about the RV not working out, and I know I need a better solution for housing.
I don’t know what that is yet, but I’m grateful to have this warm, safe place, at least for a couple of nights, where I can figure it out.
“I’m grateful that Briar has finally allowed me to take her out on a date, and I’m grateful for this food that she made for us.
It seems like I’m taking a lot from others around me, Lord, and if there’s any way that I can give back, please inspire my mind and give me willing hands to do the work.
” He cleared his throat, suddenly anxious for this prayer to be over.
“We’re really grateful for all of Thy blessings in both of our lives, and I ask that if there is anything Briar stands in need of at this time, that Thou wilt grant it unto her, according to Thy will.
Bless our food to nourish us and strengthen us and help us do good. Amen.”
Briar did not repeat the amen, and Tarr lifted his head, his eyes automatically seeking hers. He found them and hooked, and something strong and powerful tethered the two of them together.
Tarr cleared his throat and reached for a plate. “I don’t think we’ll be going to church this weekend.”
That seemed to break the silence, and Briar shook her head as she took the plate he handed her. “Do you go every week?”
“I try to,” he said. “Part of my post-rodeo-Tarr persona I’m trying to become.” He flashed her a smile and picked up the other plate she’d put on the counter. “I already know you don’t go, and it’s fine. It’s not like I’m going to be pressuring you or anything.”
She used the tongs to put one of the chicken breasts on her plate. He followed her down the line, and then he followed her into the living room to sit on the hearth, their backs soaking up the warmth of the fire.
“It’s not that I don’t believe in God,” Briar said.
Tarr speared a miniature potato with his fork and dunked it in the puddle of ranch dressing he’d poured onto his plate. “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s just…I guess I don’t feel like I need organized religion in my life. I can believe and read the scriptures and pray on my own.”
“Sure,” Tarr said. “Those are all important. I guess I like feeling—I guess I like being around other people in a community who think and believe a little bit the way I do.”
Briar nodded as she balanced her plate on her knees and cut into her chicken. “I can see that.”
They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.
Tarr finished in about half the time as Briar.
He stood and took his plate into the kitchen.
“I’ll make us some dessert,” he said. He put his dirty dishes in her sink and turned to the cupboard to get out the pudding cups.
“I grew up in Texas, and my momma made dessert with every meal.” He smiled just thinking about his mother.
“Sometimes it was this big, elaborate sheet cake, and other times she’d give us miniature bags of M&M’s. ”
He chuckled as the childhood memories ran rampant through his mind. “I don’t hardly ever make elaborate desserts,” he said. “But I always plan out a little something sweet for the end of every meal.”
He opened her utensil drawer and pulled out a couple of spoons.
He took the pudding cups back over to her and exchanged her now-empty plate for the dessert.
After putting her dirty dishes in the sink and returning to the hearth, he peeled back the plastic lid on his pudding cup, the scent of chocolate rising up to meet his nose.
“I’ve only got the one brother,” he said. “He’s older than me, and, well, Wayne and I don’t really get along. I don’t talk to him much.”
“What about your parents?” Briar asked. “Are they married? Divorced? Do you talk to them?”
“They’re still married, yeah,” he said. “Still in Stephenville. I talk to them all the time, especially my momma.”
Briar nodded. Tarr told himself to eat slower, and he took one bite of his pudding, the creamy goodness of it coating his tongue. After he swallowed, he dealt with a pulse thundering like horses’ hooves.
“What about you?” he asked, deciding to try to get a little bit personal with Briar.
He’d called their breakfast that morning a date, and she hadn’t corrected him.
She’d invited him to stay with her. She’d made dinner, and they’d talked about religion, for crying out loud.
He could certainly ask about her family.
“You got any siblings? Your parents still alive? Together?”
He deliberately didn’t look at her, because he didn’t need to. She’d tensed up at his side and remained silent. He took another bite of pudding and then another, the questions starting to grow daggers and pierce the tension now filling the cabin.
“My parents are divorced,” Briar finally said. “Though they both still live in Calgary.” She looked up and over to him.
Tarr had never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life than Briar in that moment, cast in shadows on one side of her face and a gorgeous orange glow on the other.
“I grew up there—Calgary.”
He nodded, a silent gesture of encouragement for her to go on.
“I’m an only child,” she said. “And I haven’t really spoken to either of my parents since I left Canada about four years ago.”
Surprise moved through Tarr for several reasons. One, that she told him so much. And two, that she really did exist on this planet as an island, alone, all by herself here in Colorado.
His heart ached for her, and he took her empty pudding cup and stacked it inside his. He put their spoons inside and set them on his other side, and then edged closer to Briar and put his arm around her.
“So that’s why you don’t go anywhere for holidays.”
“Yeah,” she said. “There’s just been a lot that’s happened, you know?”
Tarr didn’t know, but he nodded. “Families can be really complicated.”
Briar seemed to melt into him for a couple of moments, and pure bliss moved through Tarr.
He wondered if this would ever become commonplace for him—that he would come home to this cabin, and they would eat dinner together and talk, and everything would be comfortable and normal, filled with kindness and gentleness and love.
He wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted before, and he wasn’t sure why, as he didn’t know Briar all that well.
She blew out her breath and straightened. Tarr pulled his arm back, and she stood. “Well, I hate to say it, but the generator is not meant to heat the entire cabin.”
She took a few steps away from him and arrived in front of the couch. He’d slept there before, usually with Wiggins curled into his chest or covering his feet. Right now, she reached to pull the pillows off the couch, and she dumped them unceremoniously on the floor.
“I think we’re going to have to sleep out here.”
“Sleep out here?” Tarr repeated.
In the next moment, Briar released a catch on the couch, and the back of it laid down to create a flat surface. She turned toward him, and with the firelight shining in her eyes, he read the apprehension there without trouble.
“Yeah,” she said. “The couch unfolds into a bed, and we can pull it closer to the fire.” She flapped one arm toward the hallway.
“We can close all the bedroom doors and seal the front door and the back door and try to keep all the heat out here. That way, the generator won’t have to work as hard.
It’ll keep the fridge going, and we’ll have hot water, but the furnace won’t have to run as much. ”
Tarr stood too, his heart suddenly moving into palpitation mode. “All right,” he said. His eyes dropped to the couch-bed. “We’re gonna sleep in that together?”
Briar scoffed, and his eyes flew back to hers. She wore her usual fire and determination, and ohhhh, how Tarr loved it.
“That’s right, cowboy,” she said. “You’ve slept with me in my bed before. This is going to be no different.”
“I think it’s a little different now,” he said.
She took one step toward him, and it felt a little menacing. “How so?”
“Well, for one, I’ve been holding your hand all day,” he said. “We went out this morning.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you seriously telling me it’s not going to be different?”
Briar’s jaw hardened, and Tarr knew he wouldn’t get an answer from her.
“I’ll go get our bedding.” She turned her back on him and started toward the hallway. “You build up the fire, and we’ll go from there.”