Chapter 11

Opal turned from the shelf where she'd been showing Steele where the gloves and other medical supplies were. "Hey," she said brightly when she saw Tag standing near the entrance.

Then, his tone of voice and what he'd asked rang in her ears. What the devil are you doing here?

She took a step toward him, but his face was a dark, dark mask of anger. "Tag?"

His gaze moved past her to Steele, who'd simply asked for help in getting a wrap for one of the horses. She'd only come in to get a leash for Max, who'd eaten all the fatty ends of the brisket Mike had smoked over the weekend. Off the counter.

So, then, of course, the dog needed to go out a lot more than usual. Since Gerty was working long hours on the farm, and Mike had fourteen-hour days including a commute and a life inside a busy high-rise, Opal had said she'd care for the dog.

But of course, Max only really obeyed Opal if she had food in her hand or she allowed him to do whatever he wanted. Since she simply wanted him to go out and take care of his business and then hurry back in, of course he'd caught wind of something and run off.

And she hadn't brought out a treat, because she, well, the truth was, she hadn't even thought of it. Max surely wouldn't want to be outside in such frigid temperatures, despite being covered in hair.

She knew they kept extra leashes, or at least a lead rope or something she could use like a leash, in the stable, and she'd come in here to find something before going back outside to find Max and tame him to her will.

Steele had asked for her help to find the wrap, which she'd done in two seconds flat. And he'd said, "Don't tell my momma about this. She says I wouldn't be able to find my own head if it wasn't attached to my body."

Opal recalled her mother saying something similar about Easton at some point in the past, and she'd laughed.

Tag made an angry noise that sputtered from his mouth, and then he turned and left the stable. Just like that.

Opal had never even seen him get upset before. Maybe a little panicked when she'd been kicked by his horse, but never upset. Totally panicked over Boots, but not mad. Legit angry. She looked over to Steele, who kept his head down and said nothing.

She didn't know what to do, but something told her to go after Tag. So she did that, re-entering the wintry landscape she'd rather not. In fact, she just wanted to crawl back into bed until the clock had an eight as the first number.

"Max!" she yelled, looking for the dog as much as she scanned for Tag. "Tag?"

Boots came limp-trotting around the corner, and his little dog gave him away. Opal hurried toward the edge of the stable and right around it.

"Boots," Tag barked, but his dog had already started to follow him.

"Tag," she yelled.

He looked at her too, held her gaze for a long moment, and kept on going.

"I've lost Max," she called. That got his step to slow, and she could see his big, boxy, broad shoulders rise and then fall, as if he'd just had to inhale some patience into his system. Patience for dealing with her.

He turned back to Opal and with his eyes boring into hers, he whistled through his teeth. "Come on, Maximus!"

The German shepherd barked and came running from somewhere on her right. Opal managed to tear her gaze from the dark cowboy's, but it wasn't easy. The classically marked shepherd appeared, his bushy tail held high as he ran toward Tag.

Not her. Tag.

"C'mon, you," he said to the German shepherd, and he turned his back on Opal and Boots again, clearly headed for his cabin. Which made no sense. He'd already left for the morning, and she knew he'd been bringing Boots out for the past couple of days just to "give him a little fresh air."

"Tag." Opal rushed after him. It had snowed a couple of times in the past week since Tag and Gerty had returned to the farm with four extra horses, but nothing had stuck for long. She'd been obsessively checking the weather to make sure her family could come for Christmas, and Mother Nature would be dumping the first major round of snow this weekend, and then it would be clear for the holidays.

"Tag, can you wait?" She picked up her pace and broke into a jog for the third time—for him.

"If you want to go out with Steele, go out with Steele," he said over his shoulder.

"I—what?" Opal's lungs ached with the cold searing them. It felt so strange that cold could burn, but it did as she took another breath, trying to riddle through what he'd said. She finally caught him, but she wouldn't be able to maintain his pace for long.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I will not—if you want to go out with Steele, go out with Steele."

"Why would I want to go out with Steele?" All those words in a row cost her too many seconds of not breathing, and she panted as she continued alongside him. He wasn't even winded, which so wasn't fair.

"Sure seemed like you wanted to back there," he said.

Opal stopped walking. Or running. Or trying to take steps too long for her legs. "Taggart, please stop for a second."

He took three more steps, putting quite a bit of distance between them with his long legs. "What?" With a withering look and a defiant sigh, he turned back to face her.

"I don't want to go out with Steele. He asked me to help him find a bandage for Marigold's leg, and I pointed it out to him. Case closed."

He shoved his hands deep into his leather jacket pockets. "You were standing really close to him."

Opal lifted her head high. "I was not."

"You laughed like he's the funniest man in the world."

She threw up her hands. "He said something funny. I laughed. It's not a crime." She took a few quick steps toward him and slid her hands up the zipper of his jacket. "Tag, this is nothing. Why does me talking to Steele upset you?"

"You were more than talking to him."

"I wasn't." Opal squinted at him, trying to see what he wasn't saying. "Why did you break-up with…your last girlfriend in Green River?" She couldn't remember the woman's name right now, but everything inside her told her this was important.

His jaw jumped, but Opal leaned in. "You said it ended badly. Why? How?"

"You want some hot chocolate?" He turned and started walking again. At least it wasn't the angry stomping he'd been doing a few moments ago.

"No," she called after him. "I only want hot chocolate if it comes with talking. You talking."

"I'll talk," he called over his shoulder, and Opal propelled herself after him again.

"It's far too early in the morning for this," she grumbled under her breath as she ran—for the fourth time—to catch him. It seemed the cold had sucked all the oxygen from their lungs, for they didn't speak on the trek back to his cabin.

He led the way up the steps to the porch and through the door, holding it for both dogs before Opal arrived. She met his eye, fired a fierce look at him she wasn't sure how he'd take, and continued past him into the warmth of his cabin.

She gave Max a death glare as the dog went to drink out of Boots's bowl, and she didn't quite know what to do with herself as Tag put Boots back in his crate and then started getting out milk, hot chocolate packets, mugs, and spoons.

Finally, he had nothing else to do to distract him, and he had to look at her. Then he turned away and said, "I was saving these." He opened the cupboard and grabbed something. When he plunked it on the counter, she saw the box of candy canes.

Her heartbeat bobbed against her breastbone. "You got candy canes for me?"

"I've never had them in hot chocolate, and you swear by them."

Opal reached for the box, and he let her take it. She opened it and pulled out one of the cheery red-and-white treats. "I love these."

"Never had much use for them myself," he said.

"This is not the kind of talking I want you to do," she said.

He turned to the microwave when it beeped and took out the milk he'd put in a few minutes ago. He poured it into two mugs and pushed one in front of her.

Tag came around the counter and sat down at the other end of it, with one barstool between them. Opal reached for a packet of hot chocolate powder and ripped it open. She poured it into her mug, then did it again with a second one. She used her candy cane to start mixing, knowing she'd get the extra-chocolatey flavor combined with mint in only a minute.

"Talina was a flirt," he said. "She cheated on me."

Opal's stirring motion stalled. She couldn't even get her eyes to move over to his. "That's crazy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means—that's crazy. Who would cheat on you?" She managed to look at him then, this gentle giant of a man. He sat with his shoulders hunched forward as if he needed to protect himself. Head down. Eyes on his steaming milk, without any hot chocolate powder in it yet.

"With who?" Opal asked, her thoughts just spilling from her. "I mean, you're so, so amazing, and handsome, and wonderful. How could she ever want someone else?"

Silence descended on them then, amplifying and shouting her words back at her. Embarrassment climbed through her veins, and Opal sucked in a tight breath and held it in her lungs while she refocused on her hot drink.

"I just mean," she said when Tag didn't jump in with anything. "That I find it very odd that someone would want to cheat on you. It feels crazy to me, that's all."

"Well, thank you for sayin' so," he drawled. "But it happened, and maybe I jump—jumped to some conclusions of what was happening in the barn."

Opal slid off her stool and over to the next one. Tag usually put his arm around her first, or took her hand first, or leaned into her first. This morning, he sat like a statue, and Opal leaned her head against his arm.

"I don't want to go out with Steele," she said. "Not even a little bit. He said something funny about not being able to find anything, and it reminded me of something my momma used to say to Easton. That was it."

Tag nodded. "I hear you."

Opal took a moment to think about what he'd said. "But do you believe me?" she asked.

He started to nod really slowly, and he finally ducked his head and looked at her. "Yes, honeybear, I believe you."

Opal glowed under his attention. "Honeybear," she said. "That's a new one."

"I'm sorry I—I just saw something that wasn't there."

She'd learned to listen to what patients said—and what they didn't say—so she could ask questions to get to the root of their ailments. "What did you see?"

"The truth?"

"If you can't tell me the truth, I don't want to plan the Christmas party with you later today, and I don't want to go get breakfast burritos with you before church on Sunday."

Tag smiled, but it didn't stay long. "My mind blitzed out. I saw her flirting with another guy, and then him kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and…." He trailed off, his voice turning into a ghost of itself.

Opal said nothing, because Tag had gone, and he probably wouldn't hear her anyway.

"And I just walked away," Tag said, a hint of disgust moving into his voice now. "I didn't even say anything to her. I didn't bring it up with her later. Nothing." He scoffed, the sound similar to the angry one he'd made in the stable. "I just let her walk all over me. Over and over, and when I saw you…I just…blitzed."

Everything about him softened then, and he lifted his arm and curled it around her. "I'm sorry, Opal. Really."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I do, which makes everything that just happened even more insane. I'm sorry."

"Accepted," she said. "Thank you for talking to me about this."

"I can be a right fool sometimes," he murmured.

"Stop it." She looked up at him. "Are you ever going to kiss me again?"

"Yes," he said.

"Right now?"

He met her gaze, and Opal could've bathed in the hot flames between them. They licked up her arms and down her neck, making everything heated between them. "Why haven't you kissed me since my birthday?"

"A coupla reasons," he said.

"Do tell."

"Do you want me to confess before or after I kiss you?"

Opal's nerves danced in pure anticipation. "Mm, after." She tipped her head back slightly, and thankfully, Tag could read body cues.

He leaned down and matched his mouth to hers, uniting them in a way Opal had missed. She'd known she'd missed his touch, the stroke of his lips against hers, but she hadn't realized how much until this moment.

She hadn't realized how very dependent upon him she'd become. How important he'd become. How beautiful he was inside and out.

He pulled away first, just like he had beside the barn, weeks ago. "You make me nervous, Miss Opal," he whispered. He kissed her again, and oh, Opal could stay right here and do this all day.

But he once again ended the kiss before she was ready. She held so still, everything existing inside this tiny bubble of perfection. He moved his cheek to press against hers, which put his mouth right at her ear.

"And I don't normally kiss a woman as early as I kissed you. I just wanted to give us some more time to make sure you wanted to kiss me again."

"I did."

"A cowboy wants to make sure," he whispered. Then he lifted his head and reached for a hot chocolate packet. "Now, I saw you put two of these in your mug, and if you're gonna be doin' that all winter, I should probably buy some stock in Swiss Miss."

And just like she had earlier this morning, when someone had said something funny, Opal tipped her head back and laughed.