Chapter 8
eight
Briar’s nose seemed to absorb all the chill in the air.
She’d taken a few baby steps with Tarr—telling him a little bit about her family over her favorite pudding cups.
Of course he wanted more, and she couldn’t blame him.
He had been holding her hand a lot, and Briar didn’t even recognize her life for those few minutes while she sat on the hearth with his arm around her and everything warm and good permeating from him to her.
Of course, her old fear and familiar panic had set in, and she’d put a layer of distance between them once again.
She’d spent too long fiddling with the pillows and blankets on their couch-bed for the night, while Tarr sat in the recliner he’d pulled closer to the fire, studying something on his phone.
He’d helped her lower blinds and close them, put weather-prevention strips along the floor at the front and back doors, and close off as much of the house as possible.
The generator powered the hot-water heater, the refrigerator, the furnace, and the lights.
She lowered the thermostat to sixty-four, thinking the fire would provide enough heat to conserve the energy and not kick the furnace on all night long.
She and Tarr had just finished the eighth or ninth round of a card game he’d played on the rodeo circuit, and she’d made a chilly escape to her bedroom to change into pajamas, and then to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take care of her other bedtime rituals.
Now, she stood in the mouth of the hallway and watched as Tarr wrestled Wiggins into a doggy sweatshirt, telling him things like, “You’re the bestest boy ever,” and “You look so handsome in this sweatshirt, buddy,” and “This will keep you nice and warm tonight.”
Wiggins never seemed to hurt for heat, and Briar hoped he would lay by her that night so she could be sandwiched between two warm, breathing bodies.
Tarr chuckled as Wiggins licked his face, and Briar regretted the little bit of attitude she’d let seep back into their relationship. “I’m done in the bathroom,” she said.
Tarr twisted to look over his shoulder at her, his smile staying firmly hitched into place. “All right,” he drawled.
He’d changed into a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt, and he didn’t even seem to feel the cold. He approached where she stood blocking the entrance to the hall, and she simply watched him, her eyes traveling up his body to meet his when he arrived directly in front of her.
“Is there a password, sweetheart?”
She wanted to touch him, so she reached out and placed her hand against his chest. “No.”
His smile faded into a more serious expression. Mother Nature could have blown down the front door and let in the blizzard raging outside, and Briar would not have looked away from Tarr Olson.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” The words scraped her throat as she pushed them out. “I’m not good at letting people in.”
“I know that, honey.” He leaned down and swept his lips across her cheek. “I’m hoping the more you do it, the easier it will become.”
With that, he brushed by her and went halfway down the hall and into the bathroom.
The door clicking closed behind him jolted Briar out of her own mind, and she walked over to the dining room table where they’d been playing cards and picked up the electric lantern she’d found in her hall closet.
She moved it to the end table in the living room and pulled back the blankets she’d laid on the front of the couch where she would be sleeping.
“Come on, Wiggy.”
Wiggins jumped up onto the end of the couch-bed, circled a couple of times, and lay down. She tucked her feet right against his warm back and adjusted her pillow under her head to a more comfortable position.
Tarr came out only seconds later, and he sighed as he pulled back the covers on his half of the tiny couch. She slept in a queen-sized bed, and while yes, Tarr had held her there many times over the past few months as she healed from her injuries, tonight definitely felt different.
He wasn’t her boyfriend—yet, her mind screamed—but he’d admitted that he liked her.
He’d called her pretty. They had been on a date that day, and she had been holding his hand since last night.
She’d invited him to stay here until more suitable housing could be found, and not only because she felt bad for him or because it was the right thing to do.
She’d done it, because she wanted Tarr in her life.
Why that was so hard for her to admit she didn’t know.
She’d brought in a queen-size comforter for herself and the one from Tarr’s air bed in the guest room. She wouldn’t have to touch him at all tonight. He’d just built up the fire, so when Briar reached and snapped off the lantern, plenty of light still filled the cabin.
With her back still to him, she asked, “Do you have enough room?”
“Plenty,” he whispered.
Briar closed her eyes against the flickering firelight, but it didn’t do much to dull the orange glow.
Without thinking, she rolled over and piled her blankets behind her, creating more darkness.
She scooted in closer to the middle of the couch, and in one effortless move, she lifted that side of her comforter and tossed it over Tarr’s shoulder.
“We’ll be warmer if we share blankets.”
Tarr said nothing, but he held out the edge of his blanket, and Briar took it and pulled it over her body as she slid ever closer to him. Within moments, he enveloped her in his strong, warm arms, and she nestled deep into the comfort of his chest.
A sigh moved through her whole body, and Tarr actually let it out of his mouth.
“This does feel like when I used to stay over when you were healing,” he said.
“Mm,” she hummed, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Did you ever build a snowman growing up?” Tarr asked.
“All the time.”
“Maybe after we take care of the animals tomorrow,” he whispered, his voice entering her ears as well as rumbling through his chest and against her cheek. “We could make one. I’ve only ever made a couple.”
“In your whole life?” she asked.
He chuckled. “In my whole life, sweetheart.”
She tipped her head back. “If it stops snowing and we’re all dug out, I’d build a snowman with you.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead, and then she cuddled into his embrace again. “It does feel different, Tarr.”
“Yeah, it sure does.”
“I’m going to try,” she whispered, though pure exhaustion pulled through her and all she wanted to do was go to sleep.
“Try what, baby?”
“To talk to you,” she whispered. “To be nicer. To not panic about letting someone into my life.”
“Someone,” he whispered back. “Or specifically me?”
She thought about it for a few seconds, her brain so, so tired. “Someone,” she said. “It’s not you, Tarr, though it is you, because you’re the one trying to get closer to me. What you don’t get is…I don’t trust anyone.”
He ran his hand up the back of her arm and brushed her hair back off her face. “I’m really sorry about whatever happened to make you feel like that about everyone. Will you tell me about it one day?”
Briar didn’t want to, but something deep in her heart told her that if she really wanted to share her life with a man like Tarr, she would have to figure out a way to tell him everything, kick down every wall, and let him walk through every door.
The very idea sent her spiraling, and Tarr’s arms tightened around her.
“Hey, it’s fine, honey,” he said. “You’re fine. It doesn’t have to be tonight. I’ll be as patient as I can, I promise.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” she said.
“Yeah, but your whole body turned tight.”
Briar felt it then, and she took a deep breath and blew it all out, trying to send the tension with it. It worked a little bit, and she relaxed back into his chest, where she hoped she could find true rest tonight.
“My parents had huge expectations for me,” she said. “They were both rodeo celebrities in Calgary, and my daddy still calls at the Stampede. Did you ever ride there?”
“Yeah, sure,” Tarr said. “I didn’t know any Prescotts, though.”
Briar swallowed the lump in her throat, but the words wouldn’t go with it. “That’s because his name is Alvin Perry.”
Tarr pulled in a sharp breath. “Oh…I know Alvin Perry.”
“He’s my daddy,” Briar said. “I changed my name when I came to the US and became a citizen here.”
“You did? Why?”
Briar exhaled again, but this time none of the tension left with the air.
She kept her eyes closed, but the scent of Tarr’s skin, his clothes, his cologne stuck in her nose.
“So that they couldn’t find me,” she said.
“He’s big in the rodeo, and my momma was a championship barrel racer and stunt rider to boot. ”
“Yeah,” Tarr said slowly. “What was her name again?”
He paused for a moment, and then they said together, “Regina.”
“That’s right,” Tarr added. “I feel like I met her a few times.”
“I’m sure you did,” Briar said. “They used to host a dinner for the elite champions before the Stampede. They even did it after they got divorced.”
“Yeah,” Tarr said. “Though I think they’d stopped by the time I could have been invited.”
“It’s been about ten years.” She tried to keep the memories at bay, but it took so much energy—energy Briar didn’t currently have.
“Yeah, so just before my time,” Tarr said. “But I think they were at a gala or something the last year I rode in the rodeo.”
“Sounds like them.” Briar didn’t hate her parents. She simply didn’t understand them.
“I just have to know,” Tarr said. “Did you ride in the rodeo, honey?”
“No,” she said.
“Then why do you hate it so much?”
Briar sighed, because the answer to that question couldn’t be summed up with one sentence. It was like a thirty-sided die that, no matter how she rolled, a reason would come up for why she disliked the rodeo and the atmosphere surrounding it.
“There are a lot of reasons,” she said. “Some of them small and some of them big. One of them has to do with the fact that every cowboy I dated came from the rodeo, and they all treated me badly. They all abandoned me when I got hurt, and they all took my parents’ side when I desperately needed someone to be on mine. ”
Tarr let a few seconds go by, and then he said, “I’m real sorry about that, Briar.”
He didn’t press her to know more about how she’d gotten hurt, and when he breathed in deeply, so did she. She matched his slow, even exhale and whispered, “I like you, Tarr. Thanks for always being there,” before she finally succumbed to her exhaustion, and fell asleep.