Chapter 12
twelve
Briar had no clue how to get her pulse to stop throwing itself against every rib in her body. She stepped into the role of helping Ashton get horses out of the trailer, noticing that one of them seemed to have a little bit of gimp in his back foot.
They wore name tags, of course, because someone as polished and professional as Rosie Young wouldn’t simply put her horses in a trailer for anyone to unload without knowing their names.
Briar recognized all of the signs of someone who rode the rodeo circuit, and it only made the frown in her soul deepen.
She reached the deep brown animal and ran her hands down both sides of the horse’s neck, using the equine’s calm energy to bring her heart rate back to normal.
Briar had to be at least five years older than Rosie—maybe ten—and she hated the fact that the young woman had seen her ride and said so much about it in front of everyone else.
At the same time, she understood looking people up online, because she did it for everyone she might encounter, including Rosie Young.
She’d watched the young woman ride plenty of times since she’d signed a contract with Tuck.
But she wasn’t used to people knowing her name or watching her.
It felt oddly invasive, though she’d literally looked up both Cole and Rosie last night, as well as their daddy, Jem. Cole and Rachel weren’t supposed to come with Rosie on this trip, but when Tarr had found out that they would be there, he’d texted Briar to let her know.
She moved the beautiful gelding over to the indoor walking circle, going as slow as the horse wanted and causing him to nose up against her back. She didn’t mind the horse trying to bully her, because Briar had grown up around horses and loved them with her whole soul.
She attached the animal to the line and said, “Go on now,” in probably the kindest voice she’d used in weeks.
She moved to the edge of the fence as the horse started to walk.
She looked back and forth between the two new additions to their barn, as Ashton had gotten the first horse on a walking line too.
Rosie’s horses both seemed glad to be out of the trailer, and as Briar watched, the one with the slight limp evened out its gait.
Her thoughts turned to Tarr then, though she would need to give these horses a complete check-over once they’d had a little bit of exercise.
He’d come right to her side and defended her, and while part of her appreciated that, another part sent out sparks of irritation that he couldn’t just mind his own business.
She didn’t need Tarr Olson to fight her battles for her, though she’d literally been praying and wishing someone would take her side for years now.
“You can’t have it both ways, Briar,” she told herself. Then she ducked into the small vet office where she kept her mobile kit and went to tend to the horses.
Later that afternoon, someone knocked on her door, and Briar raised her head from that morning’s paperwork, something she was completing a little bit later than normal thanks to Rosie’s arrival.
“You haven’t been answering any of the texts,” Tarr said, leaning one broad shoulder into the doorjamb of her office.
She could only hold his gaze for a moment before she reached for her phone and flipped it over. “I forgot I put this on silent when I was dealing with the horses. It’s nothing personal.”
“Oh, I think it is.” Tarr didn’t enter her office, though she wished he would, so she could close the door and stop this conversation from leaking out somewhere else.
“It’s about dinner, isn’t it?”
“It’s about dinner,” he confirmed. “And Bobbie Jo’s making herself sick with worry, so it would be great if you could reply.”
Briar nodded, because no, she didn’t want to upset Bobbie Jo or Tuck. She also didn’t want to go to dinner tonight at their house with Cole, Rosie, and whatever Cole’s wife’s name was. Briar had been so inside her head, she couldn’t remember it.
“I’m going to head back to the cabin and shower,” Tarr said. “But there will be plenty of time for you to do that after me.”
“I’m fine,” Briar said.
“Yeah, I know you are,” Tarr said. “No one’s saying you’re not.”
“Can you come in?” Briar asked, and she got up and slipped by him to close the door herself. He moved further into the office, crowding into the corner by her desk, and she leaned her back against the wood.
“I didn’t mean to act crazy,” she said.
“You didn’t act crazy.”
“She threw me for a loop,” Briar said, needing him to understand. “I haven’t been recognized in years, and I certainly wasn’t expecting it from a twenty-year-old.”
“Well, you know how teenagers are,” Tarr said. “They have online relationships with celebrities that feel real to them.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” Briar said.
“But sweetheart, you were.” Tarr hooked her with his dark eyes and wouldn’t let go.
Briar didn’t look away. She heard the things he didn’t say: You were a celebrity and you didn’t tell me.
Why couldn’t you tell me you were a stunt rider?
Why did I have to find out through Rosie?
His eyes said it all, as Tarr had never been good at keeping his thoughts and feelings off his face.
“I’m sorry,” Briar said, her heartbeat thrashing now for a whole new reason. “Maybe I was a celebrity at some point, but that’s not who I am now, and that’s not the life I want now, and I don’t know how to handle situations like that.”
“She feels pretty bad,” Tarr said.
“I’ll apologize at dinner.” Briar swallowed, because a public apology in front of her bosses and owners of the ranch wasn’t exactly on her to-do list.
“You could say thank you too,” he said.
“All right, Dad,” she threw at him, instantly regretting the sarcasm.
“I mean—” She sighed and sagged against the door.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told her thank you and been polite and talked to her like Tuck’s client.
I know they’ve been really nervous about her arrival, and I messed it up. ”
“You didn’t mess anything up,” Tarr said.
“How did you explain it?”
“We just said you’re a really private person,” Tarr said. “And we left it at that.” He raised his eyebrows. “Did I get it wrong?”
“No,” Briar said, because he could’ve said so many other things.
He nodded to her phone. “Please just text Bobbie Jo back so she can stop worrying.”
Briar lifted her phone to do that, and with the task done, she shoved her device in her back pocket and repeated her truth for the day:
I want Tarr Olson in my life.
It was the same as yesterday, and at this point, she didn’t know how many times she would have to repeat it to herself, and how many days it would be her truth before she finally accepted it.
But she wanted the strength and comfort of his arms around her, so she rushed toward him, taking the two steps and practically barreling into his chest.
He grunted but wrapped his arms around her at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I haven’t looked anything up online,” he said. “But it has taken every ounce of willpower I have not to do that.”
Briar swallowed and stepped back, her hands sliding along the top ridge of his belt and up his chest. “Don’t look online,” she said. “Please. Well—I mean, I guess you can look at my channel.”
His eyebrows went up, every other feature about him so dark and stormy beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat. “You have your own channel?”
She nodded, her throat so raw. It felt like someone had wrapped it in rubber bands and was continuing to twist and twist and twist until she wouldn’t be able to get a breath or speak at all.
“I have a trick-riding channel,” she said.
“And it’s positive. Some of the commentary that other people do is not complimentary. ”
“I can’t imagine anyone not being complimentary of you,” he said, his voice soft and yet so dry, and somehow it made Briar smile.
Tears filled her eyes. “I want you in my life, Tarr Olson. I’m really sorry I hadn’t found a way to tell you about the stunt riding yet.”
“You had a bad accident?” he asked. Everything about him remained unyielding, his mouth barely moving as he spoke. He kept his hands solidly on her back, holding her in place against him, so she had to lean her head back to see him.
“Yes,” she whispered. “It was terrible. I broke both of my legs and a hip and shredded everything up my left side.”
“So that’s where you got those scars.”
She nodded. “That’s where I got the scars.”
“Rosie seemed surprised that you could walk.”
“There was a while there where they said I wouldn’t be able to,” she said.
“I went through a couple of years of extremely difficult physical therapy and exercises—having to call perfect strangers to get rides to the doctor because my own family wouldn’t take me, and all of my friends had abandoned me. ”
“Because you fell?”
“It was more than a fall.” She pressed her eyes closed, and tears slithered out of the corners of them and down her cheeks. “I caused a huge accident, Tarr. One horse had to be put down, and another stunt rider was in a coma for a month before she woke up. Everyone blamed me—as they should have.”
“I don’t believe that,” Tarr said.
“Well, people aren’t perfect,” she said. “And accidents happen.”
“Yeah, so how could they blame you?”
“Like I said—some of the comments out there aren’t very complimentary. There were people who analyzed the accident videos over and over and over, calling into question whether I’d caused the accident on purpose or not.”
Briar had never felt so alone and so out of touch with her own body. “I couldn’t believe it, because I had a pretty decent reputation of being kind, of volunteering for things I didn’t have to, of leading little children around on their Stampede tours, of taking gigs no one else wanted.”
She sighed and opened her eyes again.
Tarr reached up and brushed her tears away in one of the sweetest, most tender gestures anyone had ever done for her.
“But it doesn’t really matter what’s true or not, as long as they get likes and clicks and comments online, right?”
“No,” Tarr said. “I don’t care about what happens online at all. I care about you, and what’s right and true.”
“It was an accident,” Briar said forcefully. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone or any animal, and it ended my career. How could I want that to happen? I was making hundreds of thousands of dollars as a rider, performing, and doing social media. Why would I want to ruin that?”
Tarr didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to. He simply studied her and then slid his hand up to the back of her head and pressed it against his chest.
“I believe you, honey,” he whispered, and better words had never been spoken.
“I did learn to walk again,” Briar said. “And I’ve even ridden a horse a few times—though certainly not to do any of my stunts or tricks. As soon as I could, I left Canada and I changed my name, and I’ve been living and working here on this farm for four years now.”
“Almost five,” he said. “And now with a long-term employment contract in place.”
Briar heard the smile in his voice, and she managed a small one of her own. “Yeah, if Tuck doesn’t fire me after how I treated his only client.”
“He’s not gonna fire you, sweetheart.” Tarr edged back and dropped his hand to hers. “Come on. Let’s go home and get cleaned up for dinner.”
Briar looked up at him. “Are we really okay?”
He thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Yeah, we’re really okay.” He leaned down, and Briar thought for sure he’d kiss her.
She pulled in a breath, and every muscle in her body tightened, but he only swept his lips across her cheek and then pressed his mouth to her ear as he whispered, “Because my truth for today, Briar, is that I want you in my life too.”
She relaxed in his arms, though his words terrified her and struck a dissonant chord that echoed along with every heartbeat.
She would have to find a way past this, to truly believe that he wanted her in his life when so many other people didn’t, or she could lose this handsome cowboy prince forever.