LITMIR.BIZ

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looking her over.

       Wise guy.

       “It would be mighty neighborly of you to offer a poor wayfaring cowboy a hot cup of coffee,” he said. He sat that horse as if he was part of it—a point in his favor. He might dress like a dandy, but he was no stranger to a saddle.

       “Glad to oblige, mister,” Olivia joked, playing along. “Unless you insist on talking like a B-movie wrangler for much longer. That could get old.”

       He laughed at that, rode to the rickety gate a few yards down the way, leaned to work the latch easily and joined Olivia on her side. Taking in the ramshackle shed and detached garage, he swung down out of the saddle to walk beside her, leading Shiloh by a slack rein.

       “Looks to me like you don’t have a whole lot of room to talk about the state of my barn,” he said. His eyes were twinkling now under the brim of his hat, though he still looked wan.

       It was harder going for Olivia—her legs were shorter, the galoshes didn’t fit so they stuck at every step, and the snow came to her shins. “I rent this place,” she said, feeling defensive. “The owner lives out of state and doesn’t like to spend a nickel on repairs if he can help it. In fact, he’s been threatening to sell it for years.”

       “Ah,” Tanner said with a sage nod. “Are you just passing through Stone Creek, Doc? I had the impression you were a lifelong resident, but maybe I was wrong.”

       “Except for college and veterinary school,” Olivia answered, “I’ve lived here all my life.” She looked around at the dismal rental property. “Well, not right here—”

       “Hey,” Tanner said, quietly gruff. “I was kidding.”

       She nodded, embarrassed because she’d been caught caring what he thought, and led the way through the yard toward the back door.

       Tanner left Shiloh loosely tethered to the hand rail next to the porch steps.

       Inside the kitchen, Olivia fed a remorseful Ginger, washed her hands at the sink and got two mugs down out of the cupboard. The coffeemaker was just flailing in for a landing, mission accomplished.

       “Excuse me for a second, will you?” Olivia asked after filling mugs for herself and Tanner and giving him his. She slipped into the bedroom, closed the door, put down her coffee cup and quickly switched out the chore coat and her sweats for her best pair of jeans and the blue sweater Ashley had knitted for her as a Christmas gift. She even went so far as to splash her face with water in the tiny bathroom, give her teeth a quick brushing and run a comb through her hair.

       When she returned to the kitchen, Tanner was sitting in a chair at the table, looking as if he belonged there, and Ginger stood with her head resting on his thigh while he stroked her back.

       Something sparked in Tanner’s weary eyes when he looked up—maybe amusement, maybe appreciation. Maybe something more complicated.

       Olivia felt a wicked little thrill course through her system.

       “Thanksgiving,” she said without planning to, almost sighing out the word.

       “You don’t sound all that thankful,” Tanner observed.

       “Oh, I am,” Olivia insisted, taking a sip from her mug.

       “Me, too,” Tanner said. “Mostly.”

       She bit her lower lip, stole a glance at the clock above the sink. It was early—two hours before she needed to check in at the clinic. So much for excusing herself to go to work.

       “Mostly?” she echoed, keeping her distance.

       “There are things I’d change about my life,” Tanner told her. “If I could.”

       She drew nearer then, interested in spite of herself, and sat down, though she kept the width of the table between them. “What would you do differently?”

       He sighed, and a bleak expression darkened his eyes. “I’d have kept the business smaller, for one thing,” he said. The briefest flicker of pain contorted his face. “Not gone international. How about you?”

       “I’d have spent more time with my grandfather,” she replied after giving the question some thought. “I guess I figured he was going to be around forever.”

       “That was his coat you were wearing before.”

       “How did you guess that?”

       “My grandmother had one just like it. I think they must have sold those at every farm supply store in America, back in the day.”

       Olivia relaxed a little. “How’s Butterpie?”

       Tanner sighed, met Olivia’s gaze. Held it. “She’s not eating,” he said.

       “I was afraid of that,” Olivia murmured, distracted.

       “I thought my grandmother was going to live forever, too,” Tanner told her.

       It took Olivia a moment to catch up. “She’s gone, then?”

       Tanner nodded. “Died on her seventy-eighth birthday, hoeing the vegetable garden. Just the way she’d have wanted to go—quick, and doing something she loved to do. Your grandfather?”

       “Heart attack,” Olivia said, running her palms along the thighs of her jeans. Why were they suddenly moist?

       Tanner was silent for what seemed like a long time, though it was an easy silence. Then he finished his coffee and stood. “Guess I’d better not keep you,” he said, crossing the room to set his cup in the sink.

       Ginger’s liquid eyes followed him adoringly.

       “I’d like to look in on Butterpie on my way into town, if that’s okay with you?” Olivia said.

       One side of Tanner’s fine mouth slanted slightly upward. “Would it stop you if it wasn’t okay with me?”

       She grinned. “Nope.”

       He chuckled at that. “I’ve got some things to do in town,” he said. “Gotta pick up some wine for Thanksgiving dinner. So if I don’t see you in my barn, we’ll meet up at Brad and Meg’s place later on.”

       Of course her brother and sister-in-law would have invited Tanner to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. He was a friend, and he lived alone. Still, Olivia felt blindsided. Holidays were hard enough without stirring virtual strangers into the mix. Especially attractive ones.

       “See you then,” she said, hoping her smile didn’t look forced.

       He nodded and left, closing the kitchen door quietly behind him. Olivia immediately went to the window to watch him mount Shiloh and ride off.

       When he was out of sight, and only then, Olivia turned from the window and zeroed in on Ginger.

       “What were you thinking, running off like that? You’re not a young dog, you know.”

      “I just got a little carried away, that’s all,” Ginger said without lifting her muzzle off her forelegs. Her eyes looked soulful. “Are you wearing that getup to Thanksgiving dinner?”

       Olivia looked down at her jeans and sweater. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” she asked.

      “Touchy, touchy. I was just asking a simple question.”

       “These jeans are almost new, and Ashley made the sweater. I look perfectly fine.”

      “Whatever you say.”

       “Well, what do you think I should wear, O fashionista dog?”

      “The sweater’s fine,” Ginger observed. “But I’d switch out the jeans for a skirt. You do have a skirt, don’t you?”

       “Yes, I have a skirt. I also have rounds to make before dinner, so I’m changing into my work clothes right now.”

      

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