He groaned, the fresh injury aching as he rolled over onto his back, sleep getting slowly pulled away.
He lazily rolled his head to the side to check the time. The clock radio beside the bed blinked eight-thirty. As the numbers registered, he sat up and tossed the tangled sheets aside.
Too late. He was supposed to have been out of here before seven o’clock to meet George’s buddy in town.
He jumped out of bed, shivering as the chill of the bedroom hit him. The woodstove must have gone out last night. Snow ticked at the window as the wind gusted. Sounded like a bad storm out there.
He rotated his shoulder, massaging the pain away, then tugged on his clothes and boots, the cold in the room and the late hour urging him on.
Tanner shivered again as he stripped the bed and folded up the bedding to bring to the house. He’d get some clean sheets, bring them back, make the bed, pack up his stuff and leave.
Again.
He should have known that coming back here had been a mistake. Expecting that Keira would open up to him now, in spite of years of silence, was dumb optimism drowning out his common sense. If it weren’t for the fact that Monty had already taken apart David’s saddle yesterday and started working on it, Tanner would turn his back on Refuge Ranch for good.
He put his coat on, turned up the collar, dropped his hat on his head and stepped out onto the deck.
Snow slapped his face and he hunched his shoulders against the howling wind, plowing his way through knee-high snow gathering on the sidewalk. He tried to look down the driveway but the driving snow decreased visibility.
By the time he got to the house, ice stuck to his eyebrows and slipped down his neck. He opened the door to the house and a gust of wind almost tore it from his hand.
As he stepped inside the porch, the door fell shut behind him and he was immediately enveloped in warmth. He set his bedding on a bench, pulled his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. He brushed what snow he could off his jacket, hung it up, toed off his boots and walked toward the murmur of voices from the dining room.
Ellen and his stepmother sat at the table, a little girl between them.
She was shoving pieces of toast in her mouth, smearing half of it over her chubby cheeks and into the golden curls that framed her round face.
Ellen looked up and smiled at him when he came into the room. “Good morning, Tanner.”
She caught the direction of his gaze and smoothed her hand over the little girl’s head. “This is Adana, John’s little girl. Would you like to join us for breakfast?”
Tanner smiled at the little girl, who was engrossed in her food. “No. Thanks. I should have been gone an hour ago.” His gaze ticked over his stepmother, whose attention seemed taken up by buttering some more toast for Adana.
“Pwease. More,” Adana asked, now distracted by the egg his mother was mashing up for her.
“Where are you going in this horrible weather?” Ellen asked.
“I’ve imposed enough. I’ve found a place I can stay until the saddle is done.”
“But you can stay on the ranch,” Ellen protested. “You don’t have to go.”
“I just feel better staying somewhere else. I’ll be back to check on the saddle,” he said, glancing over at his stepmother. “And I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Alice looked up at him, her smile tight, her eyes glinting behind the dark frames of her glasses. “That’s good to know. We’ll be watching your performance,” she said.
Tanner held her gaze a beat longer, thankful for the small moment of connection and acknowledgment. If he won at Vegas or even placed, maybe things would change between them. Maybe that would help him lose that burden of guilt he’d been carrying around the past two years.
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