Chapter 24
twenty-four
Tarr tipped his head back and drained the last of his peach-almond punch, Tuck’s grandmother’s recipe. The atmosphere in the mansion carried a more upbeat and festive vibe than Tarr had thought it might.
Of course, it was New Year’s Eve, but Tucker and Bobbie Jo had been unusually stressed since learning of Bobbie Jo’s parents’ financial issues and then moving them into the second-story suite less than a week later.
Tarr had seen his best friend stressed before, worried about things, and struggling through his own thoughts to arrive at what he thought was best, but nothing like this.
Tarr actually missed the way he and Tuck used to go get breakfast at two in the morning and talk through everything troubling them.
But the truth was, Tucker didn’t need Tarr for that anymore. He had Bobbie Jo, and though Tarr knew that life shifted and changed and that Tuck absolutely should be confiding in his wife and not his best friend, he still felt like he’d lost something important to him.
The Hanks had moved in on Wednesday, only an hour ahead of the cold front and snowstorm that had been swirling over the Denver area since.
Snow removal, keeping the horses fed, and spending time with Briar took all of Tarr’s time and energy, and living alone in the RV—while exactly what he wanted—had left him feeling lonelier than ever.
None of it made sense, because he found himself surrounded by a fun, loving group of people at this very moment, and he had a new neighbor on the south side of the arena in Alex Monterro.
The man was probably pushing thirty, but he’d only turned pro last year.
He’d gone to college and actually worked as an accountant for the NPR before finally deciding to throw his hat into the ring and ride professionally.
Jentzen hadn’t had time to construct anything like a pavilion roof yet, and so he and Alex had been shoveling the snow off their pallets and putting down salt.
Tarr had grown tired of it quickly, and as a New Year’s present for himself, he’d purchased heat mats that he could plug in, and they stayed warm all the time.
They’d melt the snow and ice and leave him a path from the parking area to his RV’s front steps; he’d covered those with an awning that extended out from the vehicle.
Jentzen had worked some sort of magic with the wood-burning stove, and there’d been no more smoke issues.
And with the space heater in the bedroom with a thermostat on it, Tarr always came home and had somewhere warm to be.
He didn’t dare leave a fire burning while he wasn’t home, and he put his space heater at sixty-five, hoping that it wouldn’t spark all day long and cause a fire.
Being so close to the arena helped, and some of his anxiety propelled him outside regularly, just to check on the trailers to make sure they were still standing. After all, the last thing he needed was his house going up in flames and taking Tuck’s arena with it.
“You must be thinking about something,” Briar said, and Tarr looked down to meet her eyes.
“I’m sorry. Was someone talking to me?”
She grinned up at him. “Yep, you were definitely thinking about something.”
“I was just wondering if I needed to run back and check on the trailers to make sure they haven’t caught fire.
” He chuckled and shook his head, though losing everything to flames certainly wasn’t something to laugh about.
“My daddy was a volunteer firefighter,” he said.
“And he drilled fire safety into me, but I always extinguish the fire before I leave in the morning, so I know it’s not going. ”
“I don’t know how you live out there at all,” Jim said, and Tarr simply stitched on his smile for Tuck’s father-in-law. He’d dealt with plenty of personalities as a rodeo star, and he’d only met Bobbie Jo’s parents and had brief exchanges with them a couple of times in the past couple of days.
Still, he could see why Tuck and Bobbie Jo were frustrated with them and why Tuck didn’t think they’d ever be best of friends.
Jim and Linda complained about everything, even the brand-new carpet on the second floor, where they were living in a two-bedroom suite with a bathroom and a modified full kitchen, fully furnished, for free.
Bobbie Jo eased into her daddy’s side. “Did you guys get enough to eat?” she asked. “I’m going to be putting away the appetizers, because Tuck is going to bring in the smoked salmon and smoked turkey, and we’ll have dinner.”
She threw a nervous glance at Tarr and then Briar.
“I’ll help you,” Briar said, and she moved into the kitchen to start reboxing crackers and put cheese dip in plastic containers.
“I do want some more of that krab dip,” her daddy said. “Your momma makes the best krab dip in the world.”
Her father moved over to the island where the charcuterie boards waited, and Bobbie Jo sighed. “He’s not bothering you, is he?” she practically hissed under her breath.
“He’s fine,” Tarr said.
“That krab dip is disgusting.” She shook her head and then turned and walked into the kitchen to join Briar.
Tuck sat on the couch with Alex and Deacon, and Bobbie Jo’s mom sat in a recliner, knitting.
Yes, knitting at a party. Tarr wasn’t sure what to make of her, because she certainly knew how to keep herself busy while not doing anything helpful.
He turned his back on the whole living room scene and moved over to the drink dispenser to get more punch.
“She’s got hot chocolate on the stove,” Briar said, taking his punch cup from him. She took a sip of it and then smacked her lips.
“Hey,” he said. “That’s my cup.”
He wished they were bringing in the New Year alone so he could hold her on his lap as they watched a movie neither of them cared about, and he could kiss her as much as he wanted to.
As it was, he didn’t dare leave Tuck and Bobbie Jo here with her parents, though he’d already heard each of them say that they probably wouldn’t make it past ten PM.
Briar wasn’t a night owl either, but Tarr and Tuck had spent years staying up late for rodeos and after-parties and breakfast for dinner at one in the morning.
Tarr still loved that lifestyle, and he didn’t have to be riding the circuit to stay up past midnight and groan when his alarm went off in the morning.
He’d have to get back to training horses on Tuesday, which was when Tuck had declared the end of their vacation schedule.
Briar extended her hand to give Tarr his cup back, but he shook his head. “You’re right. I want the hot chocolate.”
“She made plain milk chocolate,” Briar said. “And then she’s got these oils that you can put in it for mint, or orange, or raspberry.”
“I want the orange,” he said.
Briar wrinkled her nose in the cutest gesture ever. “I’m going to have mint.”
“That tracks for you.” He grinned at her and hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body.
“Tarr,” Briar warned under her breath.
“What?” he asked. “There’s like five people at this party. It’s not like I’m gonna make out with you in front of strangers.” He leaned down and touched his lips to her cheek. “There’s no paparazzi here to get our pictures and post them online.”
She relaxed in his arms then, leaning her cheek against his chest as she hooked her fingers in the belt loops at his sides. He liked that, because it made him feel like she needed him to stand up.
He ran his hand down over her left hip. “How are you feeling tonight, sweetheart?” he asked. She’d told him that the colder weather made her hip hurt, and it had gotten worse this year because of the coyote attack.
“It’s sore,” she said. “I should probably take some more painkillers now, so I can take some before bed too.”
“We can sit at this party,” he said, as Tucker and Bobbie Jo had plenty of furniture in their house and only eight people here. Rosie and Jessa had not arrived for their training, and Stretch had opted to attend a party with the friend he was staying with.
“I’ll get us some hot chocolate,” he said. “You go claim us a spot on the loveseat.”
She stepped back and nodded. “All right.”
He managed to make it out of the kitchen before the hour bell rang, and Tuck popped to his feet. “It’s eight o’clock,” he yelled to the house as if no one knew. A grandfather clock chimed, and they all stood there and waited for it to play its little song and then bong eight times.
By then, Bobbie Jo had gone into the office and then come back with a bunch of balloons that had been reduced from eight. They had popped a balloon at five o’clock when the party started and were planning to do so every hour until midnight.
Tarr had attended fancy balls, and award ceremonies, and galas, but he much preferred this small-town brand of fun to anything he’d done in Las Vegas or Calgary or San Antonio.
“Momma, it’s your turn to pop,” Bobbie Jo said.
Her mother sighed, as if Bobbie Jo had told her she had to go outside and stand in the snow for fifteen minutes. She set her knitting on the arm of the chair and stood with a groan. “Oh, all right,” she said. “How do I do that?”
Bobbie Jo held out a big crochet pin used to hold down blankets to foam pads. It was metal and a couple inches long and shaped like a T, so that someone could actually hold it.
Tarr had not popped a balloon yet, as Tucker had done the five o’clock, Alex the six, and Bobbie Jo the seven. He had no idea what the order was, but he figured Bobbie Jo’s parents would be next, so they could go to bed any time after nine PM.
“Any balloon, Momma,” Bobbie Jo said, grinning at her like the woman had never annoyed her in her life. Tarr admired someone who could hide their emotions and feelings like that, because he really couldn’t.