Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tanner had honestly never thought he’d wake up again. When he and Bree had fallen to the ground in that bungalow, his last thought was that at least he’d saved her before he’d died.
Nothing had made sense to him as he’d heard her soft voice whispering in his ear while he lay on the floor. No words had penetrated his consciousness, just the knowledge that Bree was there. She was alive. That was enough.
So seeing those green eyes of her staring at him when he’d woken up in the hospital had been a very pleasant surprise. His entire body felt like he’d gone a few rounds with a steamroller, but the look of relief—of love—in Bree’s eyes had been worth it.
Talking her into coming here to the ranch? His mother hadn’t raised no dummy. And she hadn’t tried to hide her approval of Bree coming here to take care of him.
Or her approval of Bree altogether.
And that was a good thing, because he planned to keep Bree around as long as he could talk her into it. Hopefully forever.
They’d been here three weeks already, and the days hadn’t been easy—physically, at least. The road to recovery had taken a lot longer than Tanner had planned. The limitations of his own body as it healed was frustrating. Bed rest was not for him.
That was, until a few days ago, when he’d finally convinced Bree that he was definitely healed enough for her to be in bed with him for more than just sleeping.
After that, bed rest hadn’t exactly included much resting.
Ended up he hadn’t needed to take Bree to some fancy resort for their first time making love to be special. The most perfect place on earth had been in his bed at the ranch they both cared so much about.
Maybe their wounds had slowed them down a bit. But that just gave them more of an opportunity to learn everything about each other’s bodies.
Not the bed rest the doctor had ordered, but definitely what they’d both needed after coming so close to losing each other.
He watched her now from the rocker on his front porch, coffee cup in hand, as she came walking from the barn.
She’d been checking on Star again, as she did at least three times a day.
He didn’t mind. Like he’d known from the beginning, that pup was helping fill a void in her heart the twins had left.
“Everybody okay in there?”
“Two more weeks until Corfu can start weaning her.” Her voice was still a little hoarse but had gotten much better since the attack.
And thank God she was finally able to eat solid food.
Neither of them wanted to see a smoothie again for the rest of their lives.
“I measured Star, and she’s definitely right where she should be in terms of size and weight. ”
Bree had researched enough about dogs over the past three weeks to know more than most vets. Tanner had no doubt that if she said the puppy was developmentally sound, it was true.
Tomorrow was a big day for both of them. Tanner would be back in the office, although he’d be on desk duty for another couple of months until everything healed up more, but still back at the job he loved.
Ryan Fletcher was sitting in a cell, still awaiting indictment. The crimes were complex and closely linked. Definitely three counts of murder—Newkirk, Anders and Duquette—and two counts of attempted murder for him and Bree.
It looked like he would be charged with Glen Carrico’s murder, too. Ryan might have saved Bree’s life by shooting Glen, but now it looked more like he’d done it to make sure Carrico couldn’t tell the truth about what had happened than because of any altruistic impulse on his part to save Bree.
Fletcher had made a deal with Glen. He had agreed to help keep Darin from being transferred to maximum security if Glen took the fall for the murders if anyone came looking. Glen, dying anyway, had agreed.
Fletcher thought he was getting a desperate, witless patsy in Glen.
But Glen had been smarter than Fletcher had realized.
He’d left a package in a safety-deposit box a day before he died with a letter describing in detail the entire exchange between him and Fletcher.
He’d provided plenty of recorded conversations to back up his claim.
He’d sent a letter to his brother, explaining that the information was only to be used if Fletcher didn’t come through on his promise to keep Darin out of maximum security.
Glen hadn’t trusted Fletcher to keep his end of the bargain after he was gone. Smart man.
It was safe to say Fletcher would be spending the rest of his life in prison.
The thought didn’t bring Tanner any comfort beyond knowing that he and Bree were now safe.
Maybe if Tanner had shared his guilt about what had really happened with Nate—all the things he’d wished he’d done differently—instead of keeping his mistakes hidden from Ryan, everything could’ve turned out differently.
It would never have brought Nate back, but maybe Ryan wouldn’t be lost, too.
But one thing bleeding out all over the floor and watching Bree swing from that noose had taught him: every day was a gift. You learn from your mistakes, and you move on—you don’t let the past hold you captive.
Bree was learning that, too, in her own way.
She was starting her first computer class for the shelter tomorrow.
She’d dropped down to just one or two shifts per week at the Sunrise Diner, Dan and Cheryl more than happy to let her do that, especially once they understood the plan.
They were helping at the shelter, too, offering short-order cooking classes and training for anyone who might be interested.
Cassandra and Bree had become fast friends; the two of them already had plans to expand the shelter. He had no doubt it would become a big part of the community.
She walked up the stairs of the porch and wrapped her arms around his waist.
He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You ready for tomorrow?”
“Yep. Although I’m glad this first class is only for two women. I’ve already been thinking about some ways I could streamline it and make it more applicable to their lives.”
Of course she had been. That didn’t surprise him at all. “Oh yeah?”
“I’ve been doing some research, and I want to make this as effective as possible. These women deserve it.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I have no doubt it’s going to be the most useful class anyone’s ever been a part of, by the time you’re done with it.”
“How about you? You ready for tomorrow? Ready to go back to being Captain Hot Lips?”
He smiled at the nickname and nodded. He was more than ready. Ready to be back on the job and doing his part to keep Risk Peak safe.
“Hopefully nobody but you will call me that, but yes, definitely ready. Although being here with you is nothing to scoff at, either.”
“I know. It’s been nice having some time just the two of us. But the real world will be good, too. What we do is important.”
He hugged her more tightly against him. “It is—you’re right.”
She nodded against his chest and was quiet for a moment. “I’ve been researching some other important stuff, too.”
“Like what?” He took a sip of his coffee and prepared himself for a fifteen-minute one-sided conversation about computer programming in which he would only understand about eight percent of the terms. But he never wanted to make Bree feel like he wasn’t interested in what was going on in that giant brain of hers, even if he didn’t always understand it.
“Reverse cowgirl,” she said.
He spewed the coffee out over her head. “What?” he croaked.
“Reverse cowgirl.” She leaned back so she could look in his eyes. “It’s a sexual position where—”
“I know what it is.” His voice was still choked. He could not even imagine what she meant when she said she’d been researching it.
She nodded solemnly. “I think I would like to try it.”
He swallowed a laugh and kissed her. This woman. She was going to keep him on his toes for the next sixty years or so.
And he couldn’t wait.