A Cowboy's Salvation, page 18
He set his glass down on the desk and hauled her up to sit sideways on his lap, cuddling her close. She laid her head on his shoulder and relaxed into his arms. “We’ll figure it out together, princess. I promise. Somehow.”
Chapter Seventeen
The house was quiet; everyone had been up and gone for a while by the time Tara made her way up the stairs to the one room she’d avoided since she had arrived. She stood at the door to her father’s bedroom, steeling herself for the confrontation, hoping daylight would make the process easier.
She reached out for the doorknob and noticed her hand shaking slightly. She started to pull it back, then grasped the cool metal in a firm grip, turning and opening the door. The room had a slightly musty, unused air about it, as if no one had been in there for several days, which was true. Stale pipe tobacco smell wafted to her, sending her flashing back to memories of campfires, horseback riding, and stories in her father’s recliner. It was as if he had just left the room to work out on the ranch. For one moment, she could imagine that he was coming back shortly, that she still had a chance to connect with him, have a relationship. But in the next moment, the scent was gone, leaving behind only stale, unused air.
She almost turned and fled but she forced her feet forward, advancing into the dim room, flicking the light switch on the wall from memory. The curtains were drawn, keeping the room dark, gloomy, and closing out the world, cocooning her in the past.
The bed was made like West’s, hospital corners and strict precision. She could hear her father’s voice in her head. Make your bed every day and you’ll have accomplished one thing and done it well, starting your day right. Even in the depths of her despair after her husband had bailed on their marriage, she had always made the bed. It also prevented her from going back to bed when she didn’t know what else she would do. It forced her to do something else, to move forward.
She sat on the bed, inhaling the scent of tobacco and woodsy soap that reminded her of her father and let the grief that she had kept at bay to steal up on her. She hugged his pillow, which carried his scent the strongest, and she sobbed for lost time, misunderstandings, and pride. Finally, when she was empty and her eyes were gritty and swollen, she went to the attached bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face, feeling lighter and ready for the next step.
She opened the windows to let the warm June air into the room, along with the bright sunshine, and turned to face the daunting task of cleaning the remnants of her father’s life. Several hours later, she had several bags full of men’s clothing stacked up in the room, all neatly folded and ready to be donated. Some of the clothes were too worn to be donated and those were in other bags, but several items were almost brand-new. Many of them were items she had given him. Pants other than jeans, shirts that weren’t flannel or anything he could work in. That told her a lot about her father, the kind of man he’d been and his actions. He rarely went out, spent most of his time on the ranch, was devoted to it. He had become almost a hermit, and she had contributed to that by staying away, punishing him and herself, but in the end, they were both strangers.
At least he had West to rely on. And although she was still struggling with her and her father’s strained relationship, wishing it could have been different, she was glad her father had had someone by his side to support him, especially if he had been struggling with illness.
West and his brothers had had a chance to go through his things and keep anything they wanted. West had spent several hours alone in the room a few nights earlier, the door closed with only a bottle of whiskey for company, before emerging to walk into his own room somewhere around midnight. Tara didn’t know when Chase or Ty had gone in, but West had told her last night that they were all set.
She didn’t know what they had selected and didn’t feel it was her place to ask. She did snoop around the room a bit to see if she could figure out what they might have chosen but she wasn’t familiar enough with Dad’s possessions to know what might be missing. She put the last bag next to the bed and sat on the edge, staring at the empty closets and drawers, as if the life had gone out of the room.
A knock at the open door startled her and she started to stand, her muscles protesting the movement. West stepped into the room and glanced at the black bags around the bed. “You’ve been busy.”
“I assumed you guys didn’t want any of the clothes. But if you do…” She gestured toward the bags, then cocked her head, scanning his long, lean form. “Although I doubt you or any of the guys would fit into his clothes.”
A ghost of a smile crossed West’s face. “We’d have to layer the shirts, and the pants would never stay on.”
Tara had a flash of West grooming Jack with his jeans sliding to the barn floor, leaving him in just his briefs. The temperature of the room suddenly spiked and she cleared her throat. “I’m sure we can find a good home for the clothes.”
“There are always people who could use them.” He cleared his throat and glanced around. “Are you done here?”
She nodded. “For today at least. I don’t think I could do much more. Why? Do you need me to feed the chickens again or muck out more stalls?”
“No, I had something different in mind.”
*
Tara stepped in the door of the Rock, Granite Junction’s bar and grill, and paused in the darkened entranceway. This old country western place had been around longer than Tara could remember and was pretty much the only place for locals to hang out for a nice meal, a couple of drinks, and some dancing. She was curious what her reception would be since she hadn’t had a lot of time to catch up with everyone and people had been wary throughout the town, seeing her as an outsider, at best. But West thought they both needed a break from the ranch, and there was nothing like Saturday night at the Rock to let off some steam. The scarred wood floor was uneven and knotty, and a bit sticky, even early in the evening. Round wood tables were scattered around the dance floor, and mostly filled with people enjoying a simple dinner before the evening’s local band and some dancing. The pool tables in the far section were already crowded with guys and their girls, glasses of beer lining the small high tables that edged the space. The only thing missing was the cloud of cigarette smoke hanging about the rafters, but that had been banned since the last time she had been back home, and she was glad to not have to deal with those fumes.
Men and women lined up at the bar, still a fairly light crowd this early in the evening, several greeting West with nods and called welcomes. No one called out to Tara, and she didn’t recognize anyone, not initially, the faces all blending together in a sea of faces, overwhelming her.
West’s hand rested firmly on her lower back, a comfortable weight, grounding her in the present and keeping her calm, when she considered bolting out the door. He guided her toward the bar and a man who watched them expectantly.
“I need to speak with Cam about something. He owns a ranch on the other side of the county.”
Cam nodded once to her. “Ma’am. Sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man.”
She smiled at him and held out her hand. “Cam Miller, right? Thank you. I hear you helped us with calving and other things. We appreciate it.”
The dark-haired man appeared to be about West’s age, maybe a couple of years older, and quite handsome, although Tara found she preferred West.
Cam gave her a hint of a smile. “We help each other out here. Speaking of which, West, I’d like to talk about some breeding exchange.”
Tara barely restrained from rolling her eyes. She couldn’t get away from the ranch talk. Now, it looked like she’d be serenaded with conversations about breeding horses or cows or who knew what else. She was far more interested in a more personal connection with a certain human, but it seemed that would have to wait. She sighed and took a couple of steps away. The jukebox was playing country music, a style she had never quite gotten the hang of, but she tapped her foot anyway as she listened to Dierks Bentley, or at least that was who she thought it was.
“Abandoned for cow talk, huh?” Emma said from Tara’s elbow.
Tara turned, happy to see a friendly face. Emma was dressed in a cute blue blouse and dark blue jeans that appeared almost painted on, paired with boots, which also tapped in time to the music. She appeared to be alone, but it didn’t seem to bother her as she greeted no less than four people before Tara could respond.
“Cows, horses, dogs, chickens. Who knows? It’s all the same. What are you doing here?” She shook her head. “Wait, never mind. It’s Saturday night. What else is there to do?”
Emma pretended to consider her words. “Well, I could go cow tipping, but I’m not a teenager anymore. I could go drinking at the quarry. Oh wait, I’m legal now so I don’t need to sneak around. So, I guess I’m stuck here at the Rock.”
Tara looked around at the crowd. “Not sure what you’re hoping to find here. You may want to consider going a bit further afield, like Missoula or another state.”
Emma smiled, but it seemed a bit sad. “Granite Junction is home. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Although you might be right. I may never find anyone here, since I’ve known everyone here since they were stupid little boys. And I teach the other ones when I’m not serving them food at the diner. Not to mention having a brother who’s the sheriff.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“Yup.”
Emma and Tara sighed as one as they surveyed the sea of cowboys, then laughed. “Maybe I should get a cat or three and embrace the single life. What about you? Looks like you’ve snagged the most eligible bachelor in town.”
Tara glanced back at West standing a few feet away, head bent in conversation with Cam Miller. Both men were intense and focused, excluding the distractions around them. Then, as if sensing her gaze on him, West lifted his head and gave her a slow smile. Heat spread through her lower body, a pulsing warmth she hadn’t felt in all the years she’d been married. She’d only ever really felt it with one man.
West Morgan.
Her cheeks burned and she avoided Emma’s knowing gaze. “We’re just working together on the ranch. There’s nothing going on.”
“Really? Then you won’t mind those cowgirls lining up to have some fun with West tonight, right?” Emma gestured to the bar where a group of young women with teased hair, painted on jeans and more makeup than Tara had seen since barrel-racing days brazenly gave West the once-over.
She growled quietly and clenched her fists. West was hers, dammit. He’d come here with her and she wasn’t letting some buckle bunny with teased hair and too much makeup come between them. She resisted the urge to wave her fingers at them, afraid it would be like waving a red flag at a bull. She wasn’t sure she could survive the stampede of boots and stilettos.
“Fine, you win. We’re dating, or something. I have no idea what to even call it. But he’s taken and I might just have to make that clear.” Tara narrowed her eyes at a dark-haired woman licking her lips and giving West a come-hither look.
Emma laughed. “Girl, you’d better tag him now or someone else will. He’s one of the good guys, always been pretty low-key. He’d be worth making the effort.”
Tara stared daggers at the women at the bar still sizing up West like a side of beef. “Maybe I should. Some of those women are looking too close for my comfort.”
Emma nodded. “They can be pretty vicious about their men. So, nothing serious, huh?”
Tara sighed, turning her attention back to Emma. “Fine, there is something going on between us, although, I have no idea what we’re doing. I have to go back to San Francisco in a couple of weeks and long-distance relationships never work out, not that I can keep one going when I’m living in the same house.” She shifted on her feet, trying to loosen her stiff muscles. Hopefully, they could grab a seat soon.
Emma frowned. “Do you have to go back? I know you have a job there, but you’ll be coming up here often, right? For the ranch and West?”
Tara bit her lower lip and shrugged. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Of course, I’d be coming up here to see West, or he’d come to see me. But our jobs are so demanding, the ranch, my business, and now the guest ranch.”
Emma laid a hand on her arm. “Talk to West. You two can work it out. By the way, your designs? Have you thought about doing any of that around here? I was talking to Earl about your work and, let’s face it, the diner could use a little makeover. And my friend Sierra is opening a massage place and would love your thoughts on how to lay it out and design it. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be around, but would you talk to her?”
Tara didn’t have to consider it at all. “I’d love to. Let me know when and where. It sounds like fun.”
A warm hand slid around Tara’s waist, pulling her slightly against a firm body. “What will be fun?”
“Sierra is opening a massage office and wanted some design help. I thought Tara could help,” Emma announced.
West blinked. “Well, she couldn’t ask for anyone better. Tara’s work is fantastic.”
Heat rose in her cheeks and she patted West’s chest. “He has to say that. Let me know when, Emma.”
Emma squealed and hugged her. “I can’t wait. I’ll call you tomorrow with the details. Now, I’ll let you enjoy your date.”
She threw one last big grin at the two of them and headed for the bar, ignoring Tara’s sputtering denials, even as West said nothing.
“She didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry about her,” she told West.
He only studied her with an enigmatic look. “Well, it is a date, isn’t it?”
She had no idea how to respond, but surely the question would have deeper ramifications to their evening, maybe even to them. So, she gave his question the consideration it deserved, looking up into his steady, deep eyes. Was she really thinking about taking a chance with him, with anyone, especially right now when her life was so screwed up? As she studied him, something softened inside, something that had been hidden behind a hard shell for so long, and the tough outer layer cracked, releasing the pressure she had been feeling wrapped around her heart.
She lifted a hand and traced her fingertips along his jawline, feeling the stubble of his late-day beard growth rasp against her skin. He remained frozen under her touch, only his eyes fixed on her.
“Yes, I guess it is. I just wasn’t sure how you felt about it.”
A slow smile spread across his face and he grasped her hand to hold it against his cheek. He turned slightly to press a light kiss against her fingers, lingering for a long moment against the tips, then pulling her close against him. “Let’s start with dinner and see where the night takes us.”
*
West took a long swallow of his beer and watched Tara finish the last of her steak. She wasn’t eating like a picky, California girl anymore but more like a Montana woman, enjoying her beef and not worrying about cholesterol or whatever it was they complained about and drove the price of beef down so hard-working ranchers like him couldn’t make ends meet. People had stopped by their table all night, some to chat with him but most to take the prodigal daughter’s measure. Tara wasn’t fooled by any of their false platitudes, but she handled it all with grace and none of the prickliness that had surrounded her since she’d been back in Granite Junction. It appeared she had even renewed acquaintances with friends from her past, judging by her friendship with Emma Holt. Maybe, between the town’s thawing and a friendship developing, she would be more open to the ranch and opportunities there.
Unfortunately, it was too late for her and Douglas, but maybe she could find some peace at last.
The jukebox was still going strong and the stage started coming to life with the band setting up and tuning their instruments. A familiar figure hung in the shadows, a guitar case slung over his shoulder. Looked like his brother was coming out of his shell and planning on serenading the crowd that night. Tara was in for a treat.
A chair slammed down at the table, reversed, and Chase straddled it, his arms hugging the back of the chair loosely, a beer dangling from one hand. “Having fun on your date?”
West resisted the urge to punch his brother and settled for a glare. “We were until unwanted company showed up.”
Chase grinned, unrepentant. “Well, I wasn’t sure if this was a date since you seem to have forgotten how to show a girl a good time. Look at her, sitting there bored out of her mind. Tara, honey, I can only say that my brother spends more time with cows than people.”
She cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “And I suppose you know how to show a girl a good time?”
“It’s my specialty.” He set his beer on the table and stood, kicking the chair aside. He grabbed her hand. “Mind if I borrow her, bro? I know you don’t like to dance.”
Without waiting for an answer, he drew her to her feet. West growled and stood, stepping between them, breaking the connection. Tara grinned and put her hand on West’s arm. “I believe I have a better offer.”
Chase shrugged. “Your loss. His idea of dancing is roping calves.”
West whirled and Chase took a couple of steps back, hands upraised. “No problem, brother. I’ll find another partner. Maybe Emma wants to dance.”
Tara poked her head around West’s back. “Stay away from Emma. She’s a nice girl and doesn’t need you messing with her. Besides, she’s my only friend, and I don’t want you driving her away.”
Chase swiped his beer from the table and sauntered away, his laugh echoing behind him. Shit. Chase got exactly what he had intended, but it didn’t matter. West had Tara right where he wanted, pressed up against him for a slow dance playing on the jukebox. Probably the last one before the band started playing for the night, unless his other brother decided to sing. Ty was partial to ballads. He said the girls loved sad love songs and the soulful men who sang them.
West pulled her close and she relaxed against his body, her hands winding around his neck to tangle loosely in the strands of hair there. She leaned into him, her lower body rubbing up against his, igniting the embers to a fire that never seemed to go out around her. His blood pounded in his veins, a slow molten burn that spread throughout his body and settled low in his groin. He settled his chin on her head and breathed in the fresh citrus scent of her hair and peace settled over him, a peace he had experienced in only one other place.
