Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (46 page)

Then, slowly, as if to give her an opportunity to stop him, Tanner bent closer and so carefully, as if dealing with a skittish horse, he brushed his lips over hers.

She pulled suddenly back, and he worried he had moved too quickly.

Then she lifted her hand and touched her lips. Her fingers trembled as she held his gaze. She looked up at him and once again he caught the hint of sorrow blended with fear.

“Can I kiss you again?” For some reason he felt he had to ask. The years apart, the silence; all combined to make him realize he couldn't assume they would immediately take up where they had left off.

“Maybe not yet?”

The
not
was a disappointment but the
yet
gave him hope.

But then she covered his hand with hers, a small sign of acceptance.

For now, that was enough.

* * *

Bits of sun struggled to peek through the gray, ragged clouds scudding across the sky. The storm had eased for now, but according to the forecast, they were due for another pounding of snow tonight. No one was getting to the ranch and no one was leaving.

Keira stood just outside the shop, the chill of the air still making itself known, but it didn't matter.

Tanner's kiss still warmed her lips. It was a gentle, careful kiss, but it had rocked her to her core. As she had in the shop, she lifted her gloved fingers to her lips, as if testing the reality of that connection.

She closed her eyes, wondering if she dared to hope that this could work. That they could start over.

Dear Lord,
she prayed,
I'm scared. I hardly dare believe this could happen. Help me to trust that You'll take care of us.

Her thoughts slipped back to the Bible passage she had read this morning.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.”
See, I am doing a new thing!

A new thing.

Keira slowly drew in a cleansing breath of cold air and then slowly released it. Then once more. Each exhale released some tension, each inhale refreshed her.

A new thing. She had to stop dwelling on the past, and her reaction to Tanner's kiss gave her hope that they could start over.

At that, her thoughts moved to Alice. And for the first time since David's death she wondered what Alice would do with the ranch. Would she ask Tanner to take over?

Would Tanner leave his shop in Sheridan and come back to the ranch if Alice did ask?

She pushed those tentative notions aside, pulling herself back to the present.
Be in the moment,
she reminded herself.
Be content right here, right now.

“Hey, you. Cows aren't going to get fed just standing around.”

Tanner's deep voice behind her sent her heart fluttering, and as she turned around, his crooked smile and gentle eyes made it speed up even more.

They had just finished up their work on the saddle and now were heading out to feed the cows before going in for lunch.

“Hey, yourself,” she returned, giving him a smile that sprang up from deep in her soul.

He took a step closer, dropped his arm over her shoulder just like he used to and gave her a quick, one-armed hug. She tensed a moment at the close contact. She caught the fleeting reaction in his eyes and then made herself relax. The past was gone. She and Tanner were moving on.

“You want me to drive?” he asked.

“Sure. The steering gets tight in this weather. It's not windy right now so I can walk behind you.”

“You're coming in the cab with me again,” Tanner said, not letting go of her shoulder as they ploughed through the snow toward the machine shed. He gave her another squeeze and this time it was easier to lean into him. To fall into the familiar patterns of their relationship.

He wore a heavy winter coat and she had her parka on, but in spite of the layers between them, she felt the old connection slowly return.

“Besides, you can sit on my lap,” he joked. “Like you used to.”

“I was smaller then,” she returned.

Tanner looked down at her then, his smile fading away. “I dunno. You look like you've lost weight to me.”

“Don't you know that saying something like that is exactly the way to a girl's heart?”

“That and noticing a haircut,” he returned, brushing her hair back from her face with a gloved hand.

She laughed, surprised at how quickly they fell into the old rhythms. And yet, as she looked up into his face she saw lines that hadn't been there six years ago. The stubble that he seemed to favor now, shading his lean jaw, giving him an edgier look.

This was an older Tanner, and for an aching moment Keira felt the loss of the past six years.

She shook off the feeling as she pulled on the chain to open the overhead door while he climbed in the cab of the tractor and started it up. He let it run a moment and when he backed out she lowered it again, the chain clanking loudly.

Tanner stopped the tractor just out the door of the shop, leaned over and opened the cab door. She clambered up into the tractor, turned at an awkward angle to close the door behind her.

And then he pulled her onto his lap as he had promised.

“There's not much room here,” she joked, wedged between him and the steering wheel. She tried to get up but he grabbed on to her with one arm while he moved the seat back.

“There we go,” he grunted, shifting his weight on the seat, still hanging on to her. “Comfy as all get-out.”

“No. Not really.” She pushed away from him and, thankfully, this time he let her. Things were moving too quickly. She needed some time to adjust to this new relationship.

But as she managed to get off his lap in the lurching tractor, she steadied herself on his shoulder. Then kept her hand there. She caught the question in his eyes but stayed where she was. They hadn't seen each other for six years. That time apart couldn't be so quickly erased with just one kiss.

She hoped he understood.

But at the same time, a part of her wished she could sit on his lap like she used to. Act as if the breakup and all that had happened after that could simply be forgotten.

One step at a time,
she reminded herself, realizing that for the first time in those lonely years, she felt as if she had something to look forward to.

She gave in to an impulse, lowered her head and brushed a quick kiss over his stubbled cheek. She caught his surprised expression in the mirror and then another one of his slow-release smiles that never failed to elicit a curl of awareness.

“Why you saucy little minx,” Tanner teased, affecting an English accent the way he used to whenever he was feeling especially happy. “Distracting me while I'm driving. We could end up in a snowbank.”

She grinned, thankful for his acceptance of her actions. “If that's all it takes—”

What she said was cut off by his sudden swinging of the tractor toward the snow.

“Don't get stuck,” she squealed, clinging to him while the tractor rode up the snowbank, tilting to one side. “We'll never be able to pull this thing out.”

“I won't get stuck,” he said, manhandling it back onto the track. “I always know my limits.”

“Like the time you ended up swimming that river, clinging to Hardisty's saddle because you didn't think the spring runoff was that strong,” she teased, her hand clinging tightly to his shoulder now.

“I got me and that horse across, didn't I?” he challenged her, his dark eyes sparkling at her in the mirror of the tractor.

“About a mile farther downstream than you were supposed to.”

“Mile is better than a miss,” he misquoted.

Keira caught his answering grin.

“We had some good times, didn't we?”

His voice held more than a question. It was as if he was seeking verification of the years they spent together.

“We had a lot of good times,” she said with conviction. “The best years of my life so far were the ones I spent with you.”

She caught the curiosity in his eyes. As if he was wondering, if her statement was true, what had she been doing with David. Why they had stayed apart.

Her only answer was a careful smile, which he returned. It softened his features and she felt the all-too-familiar flip of her heart. Old emotions rose up, old feelings that pushed at the events of the past six years.

They made quick work of feeding the cows as the sun struggled to streak through the breaking clouds. Tanner scraped some of the snowdrifts away from the feeders and made a path around them to make it easier for the cattle to eat. An hour later the tractor was parked back in the shop and they were headed back to the house.

“You can't even see that I shoveled these walks yesterday,” he complained as they slogged through the drifts that had gathered overnight. “Thank goodness the snow quit for now. Though we're supposed to get more tonight.”

“Dad said the plows were just starting to open up the main highways.”

“Does he know if he'll make it back to the ranch in time for Thanksgiving?”

Keira wondered at his question. Wondered if he was anxious to go.

“He's not sure. Even if the highways are plowed, it'll be a while before our roads are done. We're not on a school bus route so we're not a priority. Thanksgiving or no Thanksgiving.”

They entered the porch the same time Alice did, Adana's piercing cries accompanying her. The toddler was crying, waving her arms, leaning away from Alice, her mouth open, her eyes full of tears.

“What's wrong?” Keira asked, tugging her knitted hat off her head and pulling off her mittens.

“She won't settle down. I think she wants to go outside. I know John takes her out for a walk every day. She must be feeling cooped up.”

Keira looked at the little girl, who was reaching out to her, her blue eyes brimming with tears, her blond curls in disarray.

“Oh, muffin,” Keira murmured, taking the girl in her arms. “You getting cabin fever?”

Adana stared at Keira then leaned toward the door. “'Side,” she said in a plaintive tone. “Go 'side.”

“I thought I could take her out.” Alice gathered Adana's clothes off one of the hooks in the porch.

“What about Ellen?” Tanner asked.

Alice didn't say anything, but Keira could tell that she was uncomfortable leaving her mother behind.

“I can take her out,” Keira said. “I'm already dressed.”

Alice's look of relief made Keira feel more kindly to the woman. “That would be wonderful. I'm sure she'll have more fun with you than with me.” Alice was about to hand Keira the girl's coat and snow pants when Tanner took them from her.

“Sit down on the box,” he said. “I'll help you get her dressed.”

“Do you know how?” Keira teased as she turned Adana around in her arms. The girl had settled somewhat, as if she knew something was happening.

Tanner held up the snow pants as Keira sat down on the box. “These first.” Then he held up the mittens. “Then the boots. The coat goes on next and this hat thingy last.”

“Wow, you must have taken classes or something.”

“Or something,” he said with a grin. “Or maybe I just know in which order I put on my own winter clothes.”

“Makes sense,” Keira said as Tanner slipped the pants on the wriggling little girl. Keira set her down so they could work the straps over her shoulders.

“'Side. 'Side,” Adana called out, reaching her hands toward the door.

“How does John do this?” Keira asked as she attempted to tug mittens on Adana's hands.

“This would go faster if you would cooperate, sweetie,” Tanner muttered as he grabbed one of her wiggling feet, struggling to get the boot on.

Keira couldn't keep her eyes off Tanner as he patiently worked the boot on the little girl's foot. Adana wasn't cooperating but Tanner persisted.

When they finally got her dressed, Keira set Adana on the porch floor so she could put on her own mittens. The little girl, hampered by the bulky clothing, promptly fell on her behind. Her look of surprise made Keira laugh out loud.

“I'm getting her out of here before she starts crying,” Tanner said, scooping her up in one arm. He dropped his hat on his head and with Adana tucked up against him, headed out the door.

Keira was right behind him. “I think there's a sled in the woodshed,” she said, veering off through the snowdrifts they hadn't had a chance to clear away yet.

She found it and pulled it along behind her as she waded through the deep snow, the plastic shell bumping along behind her.

Tanner had set Adana in a snowbank while he shoveled what snow he could away from the door of the house. The little girl was quiet but as soon as she saw the sled she waved her arms, her cries of excitement echoing in the chill winter air.

“Okay, Adana, I get the hint,” Tanner said. He set the shovel aside and picked her up. He handed Keira the girl as he took the sled away from Keira. “Climb on with her.”

“I'm too heavy.”

Tanner just raised his eyebrows at her.

“No. Seriously. You'll never be able to pull me around.”

Tanner tapped her nose with his gloved finger. “Stop arguing with me, Latigo Kid, and just get on the sled already. Adana will fall over otherwise. Besides, I'm not going to pull you around all by myself. We're going to use the snow machine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I won't go fast.” He gave her a wide grin. “Trust me.”

She held his eyes a moment, then smiled. In this, she could trust him.

And with the other stuff?

She subdued the thought and settled on the sled.
One day at a time,
she reminded herself.
One day at a time.

Chapter Eight

“H
old on to Adana,” Tanner called out to Keira above the whine of the snow machine's engine. “I'm going for broke.”

A long rope at the back of the machine was tied to the sled, and as he squeezed the throttle and the machine sped up across the open field, he heard Keira's squeal. He looked behind him, through the spray of snow kicked up by the machine, and the sight of Keira's laughing grin and Adana's excitement made him laugh, as well. But he wasn't looking ahead and the sled went off the trail he had made, veering sideways. Tanner immediately slowed down but it was too late. The sled wobbled then tipped, dumping Keira and Adana into the soft, fluffy snow.

Tanner hit the brakes and jumped off the machine, immediately ending up in snow almost to his thighs. By the time he got to the upturned sleigh, Keira was already on her feet, brushing snow off Adana, who, to Tanner's surprise, was screeching with delight.

All Tanner could see of the bundled-up little girl were her eyes, wide with anticipation.

“Again,” she called out, her voice muffled by the snow-encrusted scarf. “Again!”

“Obviously she's okay,” Tanner said as he brushed snow off Keira's coat. “Are you?”

Snow clung to her eyelashes, stocking cap and mittens. But her eyes sparkled with a happiness he hadn't seen since he came to the ranch.

“I'm fine,” she said as she set Adana on the now righted sled. “But I don't think it's fair that we got all covered with snow and you didn't.”

And before Tanner could guess at what she was going to do, she gave him a quick shove. He tried to catch his balance, but he fell backward into the snow, looking up at the sky, silvery flakes fluttering down and melting on his face. Keira was laughing.

“That's real funny,” he said, struggling to his feet, shivering as some snow melted and slithered down the back of his neck. “Hilarious.”

She must have seen the intent in his eyes. Squealing, she turned to grab Adana for protection, but Tanner hooked his arm around her waist before Keira could pick up the little girl. He swung her around, but Keira wasn't going down without a fight. She grabbed him as he was about to toss her and they fell into the snow together, snow flying up around them.

Behind them Adana laughed her appreciation of their stunts.

“Well, I guess we're even.” Keira laughed, trying to release herself from Tanner's arms.

But they had gone too far off the track and were swamped in the deep snow. Tanner couldn't get any purchase in the loose snow and Keira, lying beside him, couldn't move.

They struggled, but each movement drew them deeper into the snow, like quicksand.

Still laughing, Tanner stopped his struggles, trying to figure out how to get out of there.

He blinked the snow out of his eyes and looked down at Keira, still trapped under him, his one arm buried in the snow beside her head, his other hand resting on her shoulder. She was grinning, two lumps of snow decorating her cheeks.

They lay still for a moment, the silence of the day falling like a blanket on them. Their eyes held. Tanner couldn't look away. Her smile wavered and then her expression grew serious.

Slowly, giving her the opportunity to stop him, he lowered his head. She didn't move. Didn't stop him. He brought his cold lips to hers.

She lay utterly still, then moved toward him, holding the kiss. Keira's arm came around his neck, pulling him closer. And the spark of hope that had been kindled by their shared kiss this morning grew to a steady glow.

The differences, the years apart, the arguments all faded away in this mutual kiss.

Adana's burbling slowly eased into the moment and, reluctantly, Tanner pulled away.

“Guess we should get up,” Keira said, her voice breathless. But she didn't move right away.

Tanner shot a look over his shoulder but Adana still sat on the sled, happily batting at some snow stuck to her mitten.

He shifted and finally managed to find solid ground. Or solid enough to stand up. Keira was sitting up now and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. She wobbled, then caught him by the arm.

Again their eyes met. Again Tanner felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. He didn't want reality to intrude. He wanted to hang on to this moment forever.

But Adana needed them, and the snow that had been so magical just a few moments ago was slowly melting down the back of his neck.

“We should get going,” Keira said, her voice breathless.

Tanner kept his hold on her arm as they stumbled about in the deep snow, working their way to the track of the snow machine. Finally they could walk easier and Keira went directly to the sled, crouching down in front of Adana.

“You okay, monkey? Sorry for abandoning you like that.”

Tanner couldn't keep his eyes off Keira with the little girl. Nor could he stop the nudge of melancholy at the sight. If his father hadn't willed the ranch entirely to Alice when he died, if Tanner hadn't had to go work in Sheridan and take on as many rodeos as he could...maybe they would have been married and had their own child by now.

The weight of all those “ifs” dropped like a stone on his heart as he realized how many things needed to be exactly right to maintain their relationship.

Sorrow and regret spiraled through him. Did they ever have a chance?

Maybe not then, but what about now?

The question taunted him. What had changed to make what was starting again between them possible?

He and Keira were older and wiser now, and not as foolishly optimistic. If things were beginning between them again, they would be entering this relationship with their eyes wide open.

But even as these thoughts were formulated, he knew she would have to answer questions about the six-year silence somewhere along the way.

He just hoped he would be happy with the answers.

* * *

Make eye contact. Keep your cool. Don't back down like you always did.

Keira carefully laid out the wooden tiles on the Scrabble board, pluralizing the one Tanner had just laid out as well as landing on a double word score.

Adana was down for the night. Supper was over and the four adults were spending the evening together.

“That's thirty-eight points,” she said triumphantly, totaling her score and scribbling it on the note pad. “Beat that, Tanner Fortier.”

“Wait a minute.
Bators
isn't a word.” Tanner leaned forward in his chair, squinting at the letters Keira had just placed on the board.

“It is the pluralized form of people who hunt alligators using live fish. Bators.” Keira reached for the small velvet bag that held the rest of the letters she needed, trying to look confident and casual.

“I've never heard of that one,” her mother said, looking up from the scarf she was painstakingly knitting. Keira couldn't understand why her mother had taken over the project from her. The neck brace made looking down awkward and it had taken Ellen hours to get even the little bit done she had. But she was smiling so it mustn't have bother her too much.

“It's not that well-known,” Keira returned.

“Don't you have a dictionary?” Alice looked up from the photo album on her lap she was paging through. “You could look it up in there, Tanner.”

“We had a Scrabble dictionary but it was lost years ago.” In fact, Tanner had hid it one time when he and Keira were having a lively game of Scrabble the last time they had played and he was the one making up words.

And there it was again. That familiar ache at the thought of that more innocent time. Times when Tanner spent most every evening here to get away from the constant sniping between Alice and Cyrus.

“It would be in the dictionary,” Keira said, setting her new tiles on her slate. “Under the
B'
s.”

“So you're really going with that?” Tanner challenged her. “I could do a search on my phone if I had it handy.”

“And if you would, you would find out that I'm right.” Keira held his gaze, trying not to grin.

“Okay. I see we're playing with
those
rules.” He pursed his lips in concentration as he rearranged the tiles on his slate and Keira could see from the sudden gleam in his eye that he had an idea. He turned the board around on the turntable Keira's father had made especially for playing Scrabble, then quickly laid out his tiles.

Keira tried to read his word upside down, but she couldn't make it out.

“So that empties my slate and I get a triple word score, which gives me a total of...” He added up the numbers using his fingers like he always did. “A whopping one hundred and twenty-three points.” He angled his chin toward the score pad. “Write that down, Latigo Kid.”

Keira turned the board and smothered a laugh when she read his word. “
Imsynct?
What in the world does that mean?”

“It's a group of young girls who do karaoke to boy band music.”

“I don't believe you but I'll have to give you fifty points just for creativity,” Keira said with a chuckle.

“Don't need them,” Tanner said as he filled up his slate. “I'm taking you down without those pity points.”

As her laughter pealed out, their eyes met again. His gaze softened and his hand slid across the table and caught hers. As their fingers twined together Keira felt her life shifting into a familiar, wonderful place.

Could this happen? she wondered. Could they truly start over?

“Oh, my goodness, Tanner, look at these pictures,” Alice said, getting up from her chair, her attention on the photo album she was carrying. She set it down on the table beside them, her finger resting on a photo at the top of the page.

Had she done that on purpose? Had she seen Tanner take her hand? Her sudden interruption seemed rather timely.

Tanner withdrew his hand and dutifully looked at the album.

The picture was of the three of them. David, Tanner and Keira, all on horseback.

“Look how young you all were,” Alice said, a note of sorrow in her voice. “I don't think David was much more than eight in this photo. Is that Hardisty he's riding?”

Tanner shook his head. “No. Hardisty was just a colt then. I think that's Babe.”

“Oh, that's right. David raised her from a colt and trained her, as well.” Alice released a light sigh. “Didn't Heather ride her once in one of her barrel racing competitions?”

“She did. I think she won,” Tanner said, gamely playing along.

Keira remembered the story differently, however. Tanner was the one who spent the most time training Babe and had done most of the difficult groundwork. By the time David took over, Babe was broke to ride with a saddle. He just did some of the finishing touches such as neck reining and teaching her to change leads and back up and ground tie.

“David had as much of a way with animals as he did with people.”

“That's not saying much.” As soon as the words spilled out, Keira wished she could pull them back, bury them where they belonged. Especially when she caught Alice's frown.

“David was a kind young man with many friends,” Alice replied with an injured tone.

Keira forced a smile, wondering if she could try to pass her comment off as a joke to ease the tension. But she was tired of hearing how wonderful David was when, in fact, he was anything but.

“He had lots of friends, but he was no angel,” Keira said quietly.

Alice picked up the photo album and straightened, holding it against her as if using it for protection. “I realize that, but he was a good boy. And he was my son.”

“I'm sorry,” Keira murmured.

Her apology was automatic and it felt like dust in her mouth. Her heart twisted in her chest and she suddenly felt claustrophobic.

“If you'll excuse me,” she muttered. “I forgot I have to get some work done in the office.”

She ignored Tanner's frown and Alice's pinched look as she got up from the table, restraining herself from rushing through the living room to the sanctuary of her father's office. She didn't have anything to do there but she needed to get away from Alice.

The room was dark and empty and as she dropped into the chair behind the desk she felt the weight of the past few years drop onto her shoulders, as well. She turned the chair to look out the window but all she saw was her vague reflection in the darkened glass and the glow from the doorway. She had forgotten to close the door and could hear the murmur of conversation from the living room.

She knew her sudden departure would generate a flood of questions but she was getting tired of how Alice constantly brought David into every moment she spent with Tanner. It was as if she was reminding Keira of her brief relationship with David.

Would David always be there? Would he always be hovering in the background, a shadowy reminder of the years she and Tanner had lost?

She thought all of that would have died with David, but apparently not.

She shivered a moment; suddenly bone-weary, sadness washed over her as she pulled her legs up against her chest. She and Tanner had lost so much.

“You okay?” Tanner spoke quietly from the doorway, but it still made her heart jump.

She looked up and saw Tanner's shadowy reflection in the window.

“Yeah. I'm fine,” she said, turning around, hoping she sounded more offhand than she felt.

Tanner walked into the darkened office, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his pants, shoulders hunched like he always did when he wasn't sure of her mood, his features shadowed except for the glint of his eyes.

“You don't seem fine. Was it what my mother said about David that bothered you?”

Confused sorrow coiled through her and knew she couldn't get away with evading the topic. “I just wish your mother would leave David dead and buried,” she finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“We were having such a fun time, you and me, just like we used to, and she has to ruin things with her photo album and her stories and her distorted view of David.” She stopped, hearing the rising anger in her voice.