lower rail and tilted his head, studying her. “And safer is always better.”
“Of course.”
“Sounds more personal than professional, Claire.” Tanner’s voice was soft and flat.
She flinched, knowing he referred to her change of heart about rodeo...and dating a bull rider. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He pushed off the rail, all tanned arms and square shoulders, his demeanor infuriatingly cool. “Guess that’s for you to decide. As for the ranch, not taking risks is what has put it behind the times.”
“Just stop,” she pleaded, her voice rising despite herself.
“Stop what exactly, Claire?” When he sauntered close, she breathed in his familiar scent. Leather and livestock. It scrambled her thoughts for a moment.
“All of it. Why do you care?”
He resettled his hat and squinted at the rising sun for a long moment. “I care, Claire.” He started down the steps, his words falling over his shoulder. “More than I should.”
* * *
TANNER PEERED AT a worn, creased paper, light bouncing off the page. The late afternoon felt like summer, pails of sunshine spilling through scuttling clouds, brightening the whole pasture. Dandelion seeds drifted on a low breeze and spiky ragwort flowered yellow.
“Plank position. Drop the knees. Hands underneath the pecs not the shoulders.”
He ripped off his damp T-shirt and tossed it onto the ground beside his hat. In a swift move, he dropped into the springy grass, stretched out for the fancy push-up and executed thirty. His healing rotator cuff ached but he forced another set. Yoga was no joke. It kicked his butt. Sweat ran down the sides of his face and slicked his back and chest. He’d been at his physical therapy for an hour. Almost time to quit.
He held up the paper again, scanned it and stuffed it back in his jeans for the last time. Knot pose. On his belly, he crossed his bad arm under his chest then reached forward with the opposite hand, a deep drawing of the muscle. Still felt tight, but looser than it had a week ago. His therapist was right about yoga.
Tanner had scoffed at first. Thought it wouldn’t be a challenge. A smile crept across his face. What an idiot. These easy-looking moves worked him harder than any bull. And his hand, wrist, arm and shoulder muscles felt stronger...critical in his job.
After his last bad landing, he’d worried his career was over. At this rate, he might get into shape, after all. With no savings after a mismanaged investment, he had no other option but to ride...unless his idea to start a rodeo school, renting space and buying Denton Ranch’s more aggressive, mixed breed bulls, worked out. It’d be the first time he put his mind, not his grip, to use, and he didn’t have as much faith in the former... Not when his occupation had been so good to him.
He rolled over. Meditation time. He slowed his breathing and let his body sink into the earth the way he’d been shown. Cleared his mind and pictured a peaceful spot. Denton Creek. Where he and Claire had picnicked and swum while dating.
“Tanner!”
He blinked up into the blue sky. Had he imagined Claire’s voice? It’d sounded real.
“What are you doing?”
Nope. Not a dream.
He leaped to his feet and sauntered over to the metal fence. As he watched her unlatch the gate and walk inside, his heart rate picked up a notch. There was no denying she was beautifully made, with long graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of her torso to the dip of her waist. The sun skidded across her face when she looked up at him. Dark green eyes and a full mouth that didn’t give an inch.
He breathed in the fresh scent of her as she passed by, a one-of-a-kind mix of wildflowers, horses and the outdoors, that brought on memories he’d better forget again in a hurry.
“Are you hurt?” Her eyes ran over his bare chest then lowered, a pink tint darkening her cheeks as her eyes lingered on the kidney-bean-shaped birthmark beside his navel.
“I was meditating. Yoga.”
“That’s a joke, right?”
Tart-tongued gal. Her sarcasm had always challenged him. Made him want to kiss the sting right out of her until she melted, sweet and willing, in his arms. No other woman excited him this way. Lit him up the way rodeo did.
“Not if I want to rehab this shoulder.” He grabbed a handkerchief out of his back pocket and mopped his brow. “What can I help you with? Didn’t think you wanted to see me much.”
Wariness curled in her eyes like smoke. “I don’t. But I called my insurance company and they’re not covering the truck repairs because of my ticket. I wondered if you had any ideas.”
His thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “A few.”
Claire leaned against the fence and slanted him a skeptical look. “I called the auto body. They said it’d take time to locate the specific parts, and lots of labor. It’s going to cost a fortune.”
He rested a hand on the fence rail beside her shoulder. “Let me figure that out. I’m having it towed here in the morning. Already called a mechanic to see if he’d work off-hours to help.”
She angled her head and the red curls that escaped her braid blew across her face. “And then what? You’re going to fix it?”
The scoff in her voice sounded all too familiar. Voices from his past telling him to not even try. It only fired him up. “That’s the plan. I want Jonathan to work with me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Jonathan? He would never. I would never...”
Unable to resist, he tucked a wavy strand behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh. She shivered, despite the sun melting all around them.
He forced his mind back onto the conversation. Claire was magnetic, pulling him in when he’d had no intention of getting close again. “You’re coddling him. He should have gone out with Martin today. Be doing things. Working with his hands.”
“He makes model airplanes,” she exclaimed.
“Will he ever fly a real one?”
Her eyes shimmered. “Too dangerous. He wouldn’t want that.”
“He should. Let him work with me.” Having grown up without a father, he felt for the kid, wanted to help Martin’s bid to get the boy out into the world.
For a moment, Tanner caught a weakening in her resistance, in the rounding of her eyes, the softening of her mouth. He leaned in, drawn to this glimpse of the old Claire. After a moment, she shook her head and ducked under his arm.
Back at the gate, she whirled. “When are you leaving?”
His lips twisted. “Planning a going-away party for me?”
Her eyes rose to the sky. “Why did you come back? Really?”
“I
