“Morning, Dad.” She kissed the top of her father’s head then returned Jonathan’s hug, studiously ignoring the man making her nerves jump. “How’d you sleep, honey?”
“Good. Here, Roxy.” He leaned down and fed his scampering terrier a bacon slice.
“Honey. No feeding the dog at the table.”
The antennae-like hair over Roxy’s eyebrows twitched as she hunkered on the floor and began chomping, her jaw snapping open again when Jonathan snuck her another piece.
“Jonathan. What did I say?”
He shrugged, eyes glimmering and full of false innocence. “You said no feeding Roxy at the table so I did it under the table.” His mischievous grin made Claire’s lips twitch. “I didn’t break a rule.”
“You sure bent it. What am I going to do with you?”
“Feed me to the dogs?” He flopped upside down on his chair and dangled his wrist to Roxy. “Want a bite?”
She headed for the stove and filled her plate with eggs and toast. “What are you going to do today...besides disobey your mother?” Marie, the housekeeper Claire’s father hired after her mother’s death, handed her a glass of juice. “Thanks.” The dark-haired woman returned her smile. It hurt, imagining they’d be letting her go when they sold the ranch, but luckily she already had plans to move in with her pregnant daughter in Arizona.
“Finishing my Benjamin Franklin report then maybe work on my model plane.” Her son kept his head lowered, but she noticed his eyes flicking toward Tanner.
Her father nudged Jonathan. “Let’s get out today, son. Marie will drive us into town. How about an ice cream at Harrigan’s?”
Claire held her breath, hoping Jonathan would agree. He loved ice cream as much as any kid, but he rarely wanted to go into town knowing he might run into some of his old classmates. His counselor had warned them not to push him into activities that heightened his insecurities, so Claire stayed quiet.
“No, thanks, Grandpa.” Jonathan chopped the rest of his bacon with his fork, scattering it around his plate.
“How about riding with your mother?” put in Tanner.
Martin’s spoon clattered to the table and Jonathan’s eyes grew round. Claire’s breath stalled. “Momma. You don’t ride.”
“She used to be the best barrel racer in the area. Could have been a champion.” Tanner raised his juice glass as if toasting her.
“Enough, Tanner.” Claire tamped down the old rush of excitement at his admiring expression. She wasn’t that woman anymore and she didn’t want her son’s head filled with crazy ideas. Worse, Tanner made her remember a side of herself she’d let go. Wouldn’t want back.
Jonathan scooted to the edge of his chair. “I want to learn to ride, but Momma won’t let me.”
“Jonathan,” Claire warned, shooting the cowboy a glare over her son’s head.
Tanner smiled wide, seeming to enjoy her ire, which, of course, only fired her up more. “I’ll take you, sometime, if your mother gives the okay.”
“She doesn’t.” Claire tossed her cold toast back onto her plate, her appetite gone. How dare Tanner overstep and interfere with her parenting? First the ranch, now Jonathan? He was getting under her skin in the worst way.
“How’s your day lined up, Tanner?” her father asked in the tense silence. He wiped his mouth but missed the stiff side. Claire leaned over and dabbed at the egg in a move too fast for a man’s pride to register. She hoped...
“Mostly I’ll be looking things over. Did a bit of that last night with the breed stock. I’ve got a rep from Carne Incorporado coming up from Mexico City tomorrow. He’s a fan and friend who’s looking to improve the company’s beef with better breeders. I’ve also got my eye on a couple of bulls that could go for six figures at auction. Revelation’s one.”
Her father whistled and leaned forward, the red veins on the end of his nose filling. “That’s my top stud. And Carne would be the biggest company we’ve worked with, yet. What’s the chance of us getting a contract?”
Tanner shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Hard to say.”
“May I have a word with you, Tanner?” Claire shoved her chair back and stood. “Outside, please?”
He studied her for a moment before he nodded. Roxy bounded after them then leaped off the porch to chase squawking chickens.
“You’re raising my father’s hopes for nothing.” Her voice was indoors quiet, falling through the wide sunshine. “We’re not large enough to interest big players like that.”
Tanner gripped the porch rail and his forearms clenched as if he braced himself against her arguments. “Your father’s got great seed stock. Large corporations like Carne will want to buy it.”
She swayed a little, and her mouth clicked open. A bigger ranch meant more pressure on her fragile father. No. This business connection could not happen.
“A corporation like Carne has no loyalty to Denton. Even if they made an offer, they could easily pull out and leave us in even more in debt down the road.”
He pulled off his hat and a small breeze ruffled his hair. “Well, this is how I see it. If we auction some of our top studs and syndicate others, selling stakeholders exclusive rights to their semen, we can get buyers talking about Denton again. Attract even more investors than Carne. We’ll use the cash to expand and fill bigger and bigger quotas.”
“Too risky,” Claire fired back, struggling to keep her voice down. “Selling the ranch to Mr. Ruddell is safer.”
Tanner leaned a boot on the porch’s 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