She thought his actions might endanger her child. The thought startled him more than it should have, a shock like a splinter jamming under a nail. He didn’t worry about danger. Couldn’t perform at his job if he did. But he’d never put a kid at risk. When he stood, his head brushed the dangling light fixture, making it swing.
“I’m going to make the ranch solvent again with no harm done. I swear it. ’Night, Martin.” He put on his hat and tipped its brim. “Claire.”
He strode outside to grab his bags, letting the porch door bang behind him. The rain had stopped and water dripped from every surface. His boots sloshed through puddles on the way to his pickup. He’d take it in tomorrow and see about getting it fixed. As for Claire’s truck... He’d find a way to repair that, too.
At the door, he turned and glanced up to see Claire standing in a window watching him. She whirled when he spied her, but not quickly enough to hide her tortured expression.
Like so many from his past, she didn’t believe in him. Funny how once she’d been his biggest supporter. He leaned against his truck and squinted at the glow behind Claire’s curtains. He pulled out a cinnamon stick and clamped it between his teeth. Times like this made him wish for the cigarettes he’d quit six months ago. But he was twenty-nine now. Old enough to know better. About lots of things.
So why, when it came to Claire and him, couldn’t he understand a single one?
CLAIRE STOOD ON the wraparound porch of their large, two-story farmhouse and zipped a thin sweatshirt over her tank top. A clammy, shivery sensation crept up her legs. Her father had changed his mind without consulting her or Dani, whom she’d called before bed last night. Worse, he considered Tanner their savior.
A bitter noise escaped her. Of all people, the man who’d once wrecked her life was now supposed to save it? Her hands curled. Like heck he would.
She lowered her thermos then strode beneath laden magnolia trees along a fenced-off grazing area on their 15,000-acre ranch. Beyond it stood a couple of red-sided barns that housed equipment and their show livestock. Farther away still milled a breeding herd in another of their twenty pastures, the tin loafing shed empty. A bull bellowed in the distance.
At least Tanner had a kitchen in his separate housing unit. Bulls to tend. No reason for him to visit the main house or stop by the horse stable she managed. He wouldn’t see much of Jonathan or her. Still, she needed him gone, not just absent. Needed to remove the possibility that he’d learn the truth about Jonathan. Yet doubt lingered. Was she wrong to keep him in the dark about having a son?
She shook off the traitorous thought. Kevin was Jonathan’s father. Tanner hadn’t even stuck around long enough to know about her pregnancy. He’d wanted fame, not her.
On the other hand, didn’t Jonathan deserve to have a father? And didn’t Tanner deserve to know the truth?
She rounded a bend and emerged into dappled sunlight.
No.
She’d made the right decision not to include Tanner. It was senseless to question it now. Her spirits rose when she considered Tanner’s short-lived interests and how seldom he focused on anything for long. Whatever had drawn him here would lose its charm and he’d leave. She had to make sure that happened before they lost their buyer and the bank foreclosed.
At least he hadn’t come for her. Restlessness zip-lined through her. Not that it should matter...
She reached the horse stable and turned to stare at her family’s two-story white country house, its lines old-fashioned but stately. Morning glory and moon vines twined around the porch’s newel posts, peppering the building with bursts of color. It was beautiful. Most of all, it was home. Except for her seven-year marriage, she’d lived nowhere else.
How would Jonathan handle leaving it and returning to public school when she found a job and couldn’t homeschool him anymore? Would his bellyaches return? Those nights when he cried himself to sleep?
Claire’s head throbbed. Nobody ever told you that being a mother was all about making what seemed like thousands of tiny decisions, some as painful as broken glass.
She had to let the ranch go and so did her dad. No sense delaying the inevitable. Putting it off only made their situation worse. She’d block every change Tanner tried to make until she drove him away. The sooner the better.
A horse nickered and she stepped inside the dim rectangular building. Dusty, a dapple-gray quarter horse, arched her neck and eyed Claire, her black nostrils blowing. More horses appeared at their doors, nosy to see what Claire brought them today.
“Hey, Dusty.” She stopped to pet the horse’s velvet nose and slipped her a carrot.
Another horse snorted and bobbed its sleek mahogany head. “Would I forget you, Athena?” She stroked the paint horse’s corded neck and blond mane as it munched on its treat. Athena’s similarity to her old barrel racer struck her again. How many years since she’d ridden? Ten. Not since her eighteenth birthday. The day of her accident. Still, she’d never stopped loving these gentle giants even if she wouldn’t ride them. Fear trickled down her spine. Ever. It took all her willpower to simply lead these tried and true horses in the ring with her beginner students and give instructions to her more proficient riders without giving in to her anxiety.
To calm her nerves, she sang like always.
“Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam, and the deer and the antelope play...”
She moved down the line, doling out her treats, getting a quick visual on each animal before beginning her chores. A wiry four-legged body dashed between her legs.
“Home, home on the range,” she continued, glad only the animals could hear her. What had her son called her singing? A punch in the ear? Yikes.
Roxy lifted her muzzle and howled along, her tail beating the gnats out of the air.
Claire crouched to scratch her pet’s scraggly chin. “You’re so cute, even if you are the bearded lady of dogs. Thanks for the accompaniment.”
After grabbing a rake, she set to work on her morning chores, the mindless tasks temporarily chasing her worries away. She had riding lessons lined up starting at nine and needed to hurry to get breakfast and a shower before then.
A couple of hours later, she trudged up her porch steps and nearly collided with a tall man wearing a T-shirt and jeans covering well-worn boots.
Tanner.
Vivid blue eyes flashed from beneath a brown cowboy hat. Her heart picked up tempo at the hard, handsome curve of his lips, the flecks of stubble along his square jaw. His nose was straight, his chin dimpled. Skin tan, hair brown and waving. Body wired with energy. Tanner seemed spring-loaded, as if he was searching for something. He was perception and grit. Ambition and strong coffee. She could have looked at him forever. Their eyes locked.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted, flustered and more aware than she should have been of his sculpted arms and long legs.
His eyebrows rose. “Stopped by to ask
