Chapter 17
seventeen
T arr Olson wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, stepping back to survey his handiwork.
The new goat enclosure was coming along nicely.
The tallest, sturdy cedar post was firmly planted in the ground, ready for the fencing to be attached.
The “Goatel” that Bobbie Jo had commissioned him to make stood proudly behind that, and Tarr needed to finish the fencing and the gate, and then her kids could move in.
The summer sun beat down mercilessly, but Tarr didn’t mind.
He’d always preferred physical labor outdoors over being cooped up inside.
When he’d gotten too sweaty, he’d draped his shirt on a nail on the side of the barn and kept working.
But now, he moved into the sliver of shade there to pick up his water bottle.
“Looking good,” Tuck said.
Tarr turned to see him standing at the corner of the barn. He held two water bottles and added, “I guess you don’t need this.”
“I’ll take it,” Tarr said, reaching for what would surely be colder water than he had.
Tucker was Tarr’s best friend—and technically his boss, but he never acted like it. When Tarr had worked at the Hammond family farm, he’d learned that all the Hammonds treated their employees more like extended family than hired hands.
He downed another couple of swallows of ice water, his throat aching, but the rest of him grateful that he’d stopped to take a drink. “I should have the fencing up by tomorrow. Then Bobbie Jo’s goats can have their new playground.”
Tuck chuckled and joined Tarr in the few inches of shade that the roof of the barn gave off at this time of day. “She’ll be thrilled.”
Tuck surveyed the goat hotel and grinned. “She’s really happy that your construction skills will be able to save her goats from the coyotes.”
“I’m surprised there weren’t stronger fortifications here already,” Tarr said, grinning back at his best friend.
Bobbie Jo was definitely a goat whisperer, and her enthusiasm for the animals was infectious—even if Tarr didn’t quite understand the appeal of the cockeyed creatures himself.
“When did you guys get back?” Tarr asked.
“Oh, about half an hour ago,” Tuck said.
“How was the food?”
“It was good.” Tuck reached up and wiped his hand along his forehead—his tell for things he had no real opinion about. “I think she’s going to hire that company for the wedding.”
Tarr nudged his friend. “It’s because of the paninis, isn’t it?”
Tuck full-on belly laughed and leaned one shoulder into the side of the barn. “I can’t tell a lie—I love a good sandwich.”
“Yeah, and Bobbie Jo doesn’t really care what she serves at the wedding.”
With July fast approaching, Tuck and Bobbie Jo would be married in only another couple of months. And Tarr, once again, worried and wondered about what would happen with him.
“You got that look on your face again,” Tuck said.
“I just don’t want to be your roommate when you’re newly married. I’m going to get my own place.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Tuck said. “The house is enormous. You practically have your own apartment as it is.”
“ Practically and actually are two different things, Tuck.”
Tarr was only a couple of years older than Tucker, and he knew his friend genuinely didn’t mind sharing the mansion that had come with this new farm he’d bought.
Bobbie Jo claimed she didn’t either, but they weren’t married yet, weren’t living together yet, and didn’t really have to deal with Tarr as a married couple.
Yet.
Something inside him told him it would be bothersome to Bobbie Jo once she and Tucker said I do . Maybe Tucker too.
And Tarr was definitely bothered by it.
“All right.” Tuck sighed the way he did every time Tarr brought this up. “Well, I don’t want you to go far.”
“Yeah, because you need me here to take care of everything when you’re gone.”
“Exactly,” Tuck said, not denying it. He could wear fire in his eyes if he had to—and right now, he did.
Tarr glanced down the fence that separated the pastures from the barns. “Maybe I could just build a small cabin out here.”
“That’s not gonna work,” Tuck said.
“Why not?” Tarr asked, genuinely surprised. Tucker usually went along with most things, but he wasn’t mindlessly scratching his forehead now. “It’s not like you need the land.”
“You’re gonna build what—a rudimentary cabin and live in it? No power, no plumbing?”
“I’d put power and plumbing in it,” Tarr said.
Tucker laughed and shook his head. “You’re good at building strong, sturdy, straight enclosures for chickens and goats, but you ain’t never built a house, Tarr.”
“They have classes at the hardware store,” he said.
“You better build it big enough for you and the rest of your life…else you’ll just be movin’ out soon enough.”
“Will I?” Tarr challenged. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t dating anyone. Do you know about a girlfriend of mine that I don’t?”
Tuck rolled his eyes. “Come on, you know what I mean.”
Do I? Tarr silently challenged, but bit the words back—because now Tuck had him thinking about Briar Prescott and her pretty, curly hair and dangerous-to-his-health hazel eyes.
They’d been out once, though their first encounter before that had not been great.
Tarr had really enjoyed the date and would go out with her again.
In fact, the woman followed him into his dreams and sometimes accompanied him around the farm as he worked with the rodeo animals and the rodeo stars they trained.
Briar lived in a corner of the property, as her animal care services came with the farm. She got to remain in her house and her job for a full year—at which point she and Tuck would have to figure out whether she would continue on, or move along with her life.
“Anyway,” Tuck said, “Bobbie Jo said she texted you and hadn’t heard back.”
“My phone’s around here somewhere,” Tarr said. He looked down to the small backpack he brought outside with him whenever he worked away from shelves and power outlets. He had snacks and water in it, as he’d lived in the wild—or close to the wild—for long enough to know he should always be prepared.
He fished his phone out of the front pocket and found Bobbie Jo’s message.
Briar is bringing by those signs I asked her to make. Will you see if they fit on the Goatel and the Lambulance?
His heart did weird things in his body—twisting and spinning and leaping—and he wasn’t sure if he was excited to see Briar or irritated.
No matter what, his chest felt too tight as he sent back a quick Yep, you got it text, then shoved his phone in his back pocket.
He turned away from his best friend to hide the flush creeping up his neck at the mere thought of seeing Briar in the flesh, but Tucker said, “I think she’s on her way now.”
“All right. Great,” Tarr said, trying to make his voice as even as possible.
“Just thought you might want to, I don’t know, put on a shirt or something.”
Tarr glanced down at his bare chest, then over to the dirty T-shirt he’d shed an hour ago as he’d become soaked with sweat.
Anyway, it seemed ridiculous to cover up just because Briar was coming by. It wasn’t like she cared what he looked like. They had each other’s numbers, and yet, they barely spoke.
He hadn’t even known that Briar made signs until Bobbie Jo had told him about it—and then he’d been jealous of their friendship, which in and of itself was absolutely ridiculous.
He could talk to Briar anytime he wanted; he’d never had a problem talking to women.
Tuck’s phone rang. “This is my brother,” he said. “He said he’d call about Molly.” He swiped on the call as he walked away. “Hey, Hunt.”
Tarr looked back over to the goat enclosure, which still had plenty of work that needed to be completed. So he got back to work.
A few minutes later, he heard the clicking of dog claws on gravel, and he lifted his head from the bottom rung of the fence he was currently attaching to find Wiggins running toward him.
Pure joy seeped onto Tarr’s face in the form of a smile, and he crouched down and opened his arms for the dog. “Heya, buddy.”
Wiggins ran straight at him, and Tarr scrubbed the dog up and down his back and along his sides. “How are you, bud? What’ve you been doing? You been chasing rabbits again? I bet you’ve been chasing rabbits.”
The arrival of Wiggins meant Briar couldn’t be far behind, and Tarr looked to the same corner of the barn while he showered love on the canine.
She didn’t appear, but Tarr heard the shifting of gravel, and he stayed down scrubbing the dog as Briar came around the corner of the barn—this time lugging a sign that had to be a two-by-twelve plank at least ten feet long.
He instantly got to his feet and started toward her. “Let me,” he said.
She froze as if his voice had that effect on her and did nothing but stare as he approached.
He’d never felt more naked as he took the sign from her. The tall, blocky letters in bright blue read Lambulance just the way they’d have looked on the side of the emergency vehicle.
“I’m not sure where Bobbie Jo wants this one,” he said.
“She said she was going to put it on the side of a wagon,” Briar said.
Tarr backed up several steps so he could turn around without hitting her with the board. Then he walked away, expecting her to join him.
She didn’t.
Wiggins followed him, and he leaned the sign up against the side of the barn. “Oh, right. The wagon. I’m building the box for that, but it’s coming after the enclosure.”
“You mean the Goatel?” Briar asked with a smile.
She still had not moved, and it seemed as though her feet had planted themselves in the ground and grown roots.
Tarr grinned in her direction. “Oh, yes. Excuse me. The Goatel .”
He indicated the enclosure. “I’ve got it done, and she wanted me to see how the sign looked on it and send her a picture. I guess she’s doing a video call with her mom about the catering for the wedding.”
Briar nodded. “Yeah, that’s what she told me.”